Boxed Set
by Eligent
Summary: Kidnappings may be part of the BAU's everyday life, but they have never experienced anything like this. How do you keep playing the game when you're the odd man out and the rules keep changing at every turn? Reid and the others are about to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**Boxed Set**

By Eligent

**A/N: **Set pre-Revelations. No major spoilers. I'm not English speaking. Usual disclaimers apply.

**Summary:** Kidnapping cases may be part of the BAU's everyday life, but they have never experienced something like this. How do you keep playing the game when you're the odd man out and the rules keep changing at every turn? Reid and the others are about to find out.

-----------------------------

"Conference room, now."

Reid looked up from his paperwork, surprised by his supervisor's harsh tone, only to see Hotchner brush by his desk, his dark coat still wet from the rain that had been steadily drizzling over Quantico the last couple of days.

"A new case?" he called after the fleeing figure. "Shouldn't we wait for Morgan?" He eyed the empty desk across from his.

"I said now, Reid." Hotchner was already moving up the stairs, two steps at the time, the very image of stress.

Reid and Prentiss looked at each other over the partition that separated their desks and Prentiss shrugged at Reid's silent question. With no more information forthcoming they gathered some writing materials and followed Hotchner up the stairs. They met up with Gideon and JJ, coming from JJ's office. Gideon was also still wearing a wet windbreaker and JJ's arms were suspiciously empty of new files.

"What's going on?" Prentiss asked her, but JJ just shrugged. She was just as out of the loop as the others. Gideon urged them on towards the round table room, his urgency making Reid nervous. What was going on?

The team filed into the round table room and took their seats. Hotchner remained standing. He shrugged off his coat and folded it over a chair before crossing his arms over his chest. "Morgan's missing," he said without preamble as soon as everyone had settled down.

"What?" Reid exclaimed, sitting up straight.

"What do you mean by missing?" Prentiss demanded with a frown.

"Since when?" JJ wanted to know.

"Hotch and I have just come from his place." Gideon sat forward to start his explanation, his hands clasped in front of him on the table. "This morning one of his neighbors was out walking his dog when he noticed that Morgan's patio door was open and that there was glass on the ground. He went up on the patio, looked in and saw signs of struggle. He immediately called the police. Once they found out who Morgan is, they contacted us."

"Why didn't you call us when you found out?" Reid asked, his worry showing itself in his slightly hurt expression.

"I was already on my way to work," Hotchner explained, "So I just had to turn the car around. It was the same for Gideon. And Morgan's place was packed with police and forensics, so we thought it would be better to come back here for a preliminary briefing."

"You said signs of struggle," Prentiss said, making eye contact with Gideon. "What did you mean by that?"

"There was a hole in the back door," Gideon answered. "It looked as if someone had tried to cut a hole in the glass to stick their hand through to reach the lock, but they dropped the piece of glass on the patio, which was what caught the neighbor's attention. And there were things knocked down all over the kitchen and in the living room; broken plates, books knocked down from shelves, things like that. There must've been two or more unsubs in there and from the looks of it, Morgan put up one hell of a fight."

"The police found blood and hair on one of Morgan's football trophies," Hotchner said. "Their theory is that the unsubs used it to knock him out. But there wasn't much blood in the house and no body, so we're pretty sure they took him alive."

Though the questions 'who' and 'why' were on everyone's mind, no one uttered them.

"Was anything missing?" Prentiss asked.

Hotchner shook his head. "His cell phone, keys and gun were still there. But I haven't spent enough time in Morgan's home to notice if anything special is missing. Reid, I want you to go there later today and look around. And bring Garcia too. I think you two are the ones who have been there the most."

Reid nodded mutely. In his mind's eye he was already there, making a mental list of things to be on the look-out for.

"Where is Garcia?" JJ asked. "I haven't seen her today. Has anyone told her yet?"

Hotchner shook his head again. "We just got here. Go and see if she's here, will you? We're gonna need all the help we can get."

JJ left the room, heading for Garcia's office.

"Did you find a message or a ransom note at the site?" Reid asked.

"No," Gideon said. "And as far as we know we haven't been sent a ransom demand either. Have any of you gotten anything in the mail? Have you checked your mail and e-mail today? Any strange phone calls?"

Everyone shook their heads, no one had received anything.

"I'm going to call his family soon," Hotchner said grimly. "I'll ask them too, but I doubt they will have heard anything. We need to put up surveillance on all of our phones and e-mails. Now where's Garcia?"

-----------------------------

"Hello!" Morgan shouted once again, his voice growing hoarse. "Hello! Is anyone there? Hey, can you hear me? Hello?" He pounded on the door with a clenched fist. "Hey, let me out!" Not that he had much hope of being let out. You didn't kidnap someone and chain them up in what Morgan assumed was a basement only to let them out a few hours later with a slap to the back and a 'there's a good sport'.

With a last, frustrated bang on the door that left his fist aching, Morgan walked away from it, once again surveying his prison, even though he already knew that the only way out of the room was the door. The very locked and bolted steel door.

The room was medium sized, maybe fifteen by fifteen feet. Two cots were standing head to head in one corner, a pile of coarseblankets at the foot of one of them. In the opposite corner, directly across from the door, stood a screen and behind it were a toilet and a sink, both made out of stainless-steel as if they belonged in a public restroom or a prison. Morgan didn't like the sight of them. While it did suggest a certain care for the hostage, it also suggested that this was supposed to be a long term arrangement. There were no windows and the white walls were bare. A fluorescent tube hummed in the ceiling. The room was reasonably clean, no dust or grime on the floor. There was a new sensation to the place too. There was a faint, moist smell in the air that Morgan associated with wet paint and the stainless-steel appliances were just that; stainless. They looked unused while the cots and blankets looked like they had been picked up at an army surplus store somewhere.

There was a steel shackle locked around his left ankle, with a long chain that rattled as he paced across the floor. The chain was padlocked to a u-bolt which in turn was securely bolted to the wall at the spot furthest away from the door. The chain was long enough for Morgan to move around the room, but was stretched taut when he stood by the door. He wouldn't be able to take one step outside this room. He had already checked every individual link in the chain, looking for weaknesses, but it was as strong as it could be.

He was wearing jeans, an old navy-blue t-shirt with a faded Chicago Bears logo on it and tube socks. No shoes. That fact irked him to no end. The floor was concrete, painted gray. It had no insulation whatsoever and his toes kept curling up to ward themselves from the chill. The shackle was fitted on top of his jeans so at least it wouldn't chafe. It wasn't all that snug either, it was loose enough not to be constricting… except of course for the fact that he couldn't take it off. But it still lay heavily on his ankle bone, thumping against his foot when he moved around.

Morgan walked over to the sink, taking a mouthful of ice cold water into his mouth and then splashing more over his black eye and then at the lump at the back of his head. There were more bruises hidden on different parts of his body, but no serious injuries. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that he hadn't made it easy for his kidnappers to take him, they'd been forced to knock him out first.

The attack had come from nowhere. He'd been home alone, slouching on his couch with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, watching a movie, when the sound of shattering glass had startled him and sent his pulse racing out of sheer surprise. Letting the popcorn bowl clatter to the floor, he'd raced towards the kitchen. His first thought had been that it was a baseball gone astray or a football or something like that, but it was too dark for anyone to be out playing. In the archway to the kitchen he'd almost collided with the first of the kidnappers, who was racing the other way to get to him. Morgan's gun was kept in a lockbox in his bedroom and he knew there was no time to get it, because behind the first man he'd seen two others come to help, all three of them wearing ski masks.

The fight was still a bit of a blur in his mind, outdrawn as it had been. He vaguely remembered one of his pictures falling off the wall as he slammed one of the kidnappers into it, and hearing other things smashing as they moved around in the apartment. He knew he'd gotten a couple of good punches in himself before something hard had smashed into his skull and the next thing he knew he woke up on a cot in this room with a blinding headache and his foot shackled to the wall. Since there were no windows here he didn't know what time it was or how long he'd been here. He hadn't been wearing his watch, he'd taken it off together with the gun and his shoes as he'd prepared for a lazy night in.

Suddenly the sound of a key inserted into a lock echoed throughout the room and Morgan hastily walked out from behind the screen, prepared to come face to face with his captors.

The door opened and a man stood on the other side of the threshold, carefully out of reach for anyone in the room. It was a man Morgan had not expected to see.

"Hello Morgan," he said calmly.

Morgan's eyes narrowed dangerously and he walked quickly towards the door until the chain ruthlessly yanked him to a stop just out of reach from the man. "You?" he hissed furiously, his fists clenched by his sides. "You bastard. Where is she? Where's Garcia? What've you done with her?"

-----------------------------

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

"Penny?" the man said, an amused, pretended look of surprised on his face. "I haven't done anything to her. Why, do you think I should?" He smiled conspiratorially as if they were sharing a secret.

"You leave her alone, Caswell, or else-" Morgan started.

"Now, now, Morgan," the man interrupted. "I don't think you're in a position to make any threats." But he had dropped his amused look.

Morgan, his fury barely contained, gaped at the man. His name was Henry Caswell and they had first met about six months earlier. The team had been working a case when they had unexpectedly had to call Garcia in at ten p.m. on a Friday night to go through some data they had recovered.

_When Morgan went to Garcia's office he saw a man sitting on a chair right outside the room, iPod earbuds in his ears, reading a magazine, doing everything he could to appear unobtrusive while Garcia worked away at her keyboard on the other side of the open door. The iPod was pink and the magazine was about on-line poker, so it was no stretch of imagination to figure out where he had gotten the items. The man glanced up at him as he passed, but then went back to his magazine, seemingly uninterested._

_Morgan entered the office and tapped the dressed up Garcia on the shoulder. "Uh… sugar plum?"_

_"Yes, my candy cane?" she said, spinning around on her swivel chair and smiling broadly at him._

_Morgan nodded his head towards the man. "What's with the bodyguard out there?"_

_Garcia sighed and pushed her glasses up her nose. "I was on a date when you called. I couldn't just leave the poor thing sitting alone in the restaurant, now could I?"_

_"So why have you got him stashed out in the hallway?"_

_"Hello?" Garcia said, gesturing towards the computer screen. "Confidential, remember? Besides, I fully intend on continuing the date as soon as I've finished here, if you know what I mean." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively._

Morgan had grinned knowingly and let it slide at that, going back to business. But once the case was over he had gone back to see Garcia.

_"So, tell me about this guy."_

_"Who? Henry?" Garcia said, holding back a school-girlish giggle. "He's just a guy."_

_Morgan grinned. "Penelope Garcia, are you blushing?"_

_"No," Garcia said with blossoming cheeks._

_"So, tell me," Morgan said, playing the part of gossiping best friend. "How did you meet?"_

_"At a party," Garcia said. "We've been dating about a month now and things are looking… well, good. It's new, exciting… you know, right?"_

_"Wait, what? A _month_? Why am I only hearing about this now?"_

_"I didn't want to jinx it," Garcia said, looking a little embarrassed. "He's different. He's… I don't know… I just know I wouldn't mind him sticking around for awhile."_

_Morgan smiled at her. "So you like him. Good for you. I'm glad."_

Since then Henry Caswell had been a semi-regular in their lives. He would come by headquarters a couple of times a week to pick Garcia up and he and Morgan usually exchanged a few words when their paths crossed. He had accompanied them on a couple of after work beers and Morgan had thought he was a good guy. Good for Garcia. But now… What had Henry done?

"Listen, Henry," Morgan said, trying to find a way to defuse the situation. "If this is about me and Garcia… we mean nothing by it. It's just the way we talk to each other. Just harmless flirting, you know? There's nothing going on between us."

"You and Penny?" Henry looked almost perplex for a moment, before he burst out laughing. "Oh, please. I could care less what the two of you are up to. This isn't about her, it never was."

"Then what's it about?" Morgan wanted to know. "Tell me why I'm here. What do you want?"

"I don't think you need to concern yourself with that just yet. You'll find out sooner or later," Henry said casually. "I just came down to see if you'd settled in. You seem fine to me. Here, I brought some breakfast." He put a paper bag covered in grease stains on the floor and gave it a push with his foot so that it slid into the room without Henry risking coming in contact with Morgan.

Then he shut the door in Morgan's face.

"What? Caswell!" Morgan pounded the door again, just as fruitlessly as before. "Caswell! Get back here!"

But he didn't and Morgan kicked at the door in frustration, and then cursed loudly as he hopped on one sock clad foot over to a cot where he sat down to nurse his sore toes. 'You'll see'? What kind of an answer was that? And what about Garcia? Henry had said that he hadn't done anything to her, but that wasn't true, was it? They'd been together for seven months! Was this what it had all been about? Was this the only reason Henry had been with Garcia, to get to him? But why? What had he ever done to Henry Caswell?

* * *

"Now where's Garcia?" Hotchner said.

"Here, I'm here sir." Garcia said, slightly out of breath as she rushed into the round table room, JJ right behind her. "JJ says that Morgan's been kidnapped. Is that true?"

"I'm afraid so," Hotchner said solemnly.

"Oh god." Garcia sank down of a chair. "I- What do you want me to do?"

"For a start we need surveillance on our phones and e-mails in case we're contacted that way," Hotchner said.

"On it," Garcia promised.

"When you've done that," Reid said, stopping Garcia who was already on her way out of the room, "Come see me. You and I are going to Morgan's place to see if anything is missing."

"Okay."

"I'll alert the mailroom and the hotlines," JJ said. "Make sure they stay on their toes if anything suspicious comes in."

"Good," Hotchner said. "Okay, let's get to work."

* * *

"I don't like this," Garcia said later that afternoon, hoisting the strap of her shoulder bag higher up on her shoulder and staring at apartment door 1F, the yellow tape across the door warning people that something wasn't right here. "I don't like this at all."

"What?" Reid asked, shivering a little as he stepped out of the warm car.

"I don't want to go in there when Morgan isn't here. He should have some say in who comes and goes in his home."

Reid frowned. "He won't mind."

"I know," Garcia said. "But I still don't like it."

A forensics van was parked next to Reid's car. A red-headed tech that Reid had crossed paths with on other crime scenes, but whose name he didn't know, just slammed the rear doors shut with a resounding bang and then walked up to them.

"We're done here," he said as a way of greeting, "So you can touch and move anything you like. The police left some time ago…"

Reid nodded. Once the kidnapping had been established as a FBI matter the police wouldn't have had any cause to stick around.

"… except for one officer. He's out back with a glazier, fixing the back door. They'll be done soon too, so lock up after yourselves, okay?"

"Okay," Reid nodded. "Thank you."

Morgan had a ground floor corner apartment in an apartment complex with external galleries, so his front door wasn't inside a hallway; it was facing the communal parking lot. Out back, where the upper apartments had balconies, Morgan had a small patio, facing a green area between the complexes.

Reid opened the front door and held the tape up so Garcia could duck under it, before following himself. He closed the door behind him.

The apartment was quiet. There was some clinking from the work being done on the back door, but other than that nothing stirred. The front door opened into the large combined living room and study that took up most of the apartment. A short hallway on the left led to the bedroom and bathroom. The bedroom faced the back patio and the bathroom and some ample closets were across from the bedroom, facing the front. An archway across from the front door led into the kitchen.

Reid looked at the alarm unit that was mounted next to the front door. It wasn't activated. Morgan didn't set it until he went to bed or if he went out. Reid would have to remember to set it before they left. He wasn't supposed to know the code, but he'd seen Morgan put it in once, so of course he remembered it.

Reid briefly stuck his head into the bedroom. It looked untouched, as did the bathroom. The living room was a mess near the kitchen. Morgan's football trophies, which usually stood in a bookcase by the kitchen wall, had been knocked to the floor. Pictures hang askew, furniture had been knocked out of place and there was broken glass on the floor.

Reid looked into the kitchen. The glazier was gathering up his gear, having just finished. As Reid searched the kitchen for anything out of place, both the glazier and the police officer left. Reid locked the patio door behind them. He didn't find anything noteworthy in the kitchen.

"Do you notice anything that's missing?" Reid asked as he stepped out of the kitchen. Garcia was restlessly roaming around the living room.

"No, not really," she said. "I don't think so."

"Me neither. Well, at least we know that then."

"Know what?" She turned to him with big eyes.

"That it wasn't just a burglary gone wrong. It was a planned kidnapping."

"Oh," she said nervously looking around. "We should clean up, you know. He shouldn't have to come home to this." She bent down, grabbed the upturned bowl and started sweeping the spilt popcorn into it.

"We can do that later," Reid said.

"No, we'll fix it up nice and tidy so we can bring him home." Garcia's voice was edgy and anxious.

Reid frowned. "Garcia…"

"It won't take long," she promised.

"Garcia," Reid said again, harsher. She stood up and turned to him. "It's going to be okay," he told her gently.

She frowned at him, clutching the popcorn bowl to her chest. "You know better than to promise that, Reid."

"What? Yes, I- I didn't mean… It's just that we don't know what happened yet. We could still find him."

"I know that," Garcia said, affronted. "I haven't given up hope."

"Of course not." He stumbled over his answer. God, he really wasn't good at this. "I know that. I know you just want to help. I'm just saying that the first 24 hours of a kidnapping case are crucial. There are better things for us to do than to clean up right now."

Garcia looked around. "I just wanted…"

"I know," Reid said. "But we've done what we came here to do. Let's get back to the office, okay?"

She put the bowl on the coffee table. "Okay."

* * *

The cold night air hit Prentiss as the automatic doors of the convenience store whooshed open. She shivered and yawned simultaneously. It was well after midnight. For the last two hours the team had mainly been sitting around, staring at each other cluelessly until Gideon had called quits and sent them all home to get some sleep, himself opting to stay behind to man the phones.

To everyone's chagrin, today's progress had been slim. Forensic reports had been trickling in during the day, but they hadn't been very helpful. The only blood on the site had been Morgan's blood type. DNA matching would take longer. A few unidentified fingerprints had been found in the kitchen and bedroom, but not around the back door. Forensics couldn't find a match for the unknown prints in any of the databases available to them, but as professional kidnappers these days usually had the sense to wear gloves, the prints most likely belonged to one of Morgan's a temporary girlfriends. There'd been a smudged footprint outside the kitchen door, but all forensic could say about that was that it was from a sneaker.

Police officers had been going door to door to find witnesses, but this was a neighborhood where people went to bed early and minded their own business, one of the reasons Morgan had moved there. The neighbor with the dog thought he'd seen a dark SUV parked in the visitor's lot the night before, but he hadn't really thought about it, so he couldn't describe it or give any other vital information. Morgan's next door neighbor thought she might have heard sounds from Morgan's apartment around 10 p.m., but she couldn't be sure because her other next door neighbor had been playing very loud music.

Nor had there been any contact with the kidnappers, which was worrying. Gideon had suggested that perhaps they were drawing it out to create anxiety and tension. It wasn't unheard of. It was always easier to negotiate with desperate people.

There was also a chance that they hadn't contacted them because they already had everything they wanted.

Prentiss hadn't really been hungry when she drove home, but with a case like this she'd figured it was best to stack up, so she'd pulled over at her usual 24 hour convenience store. With her new job and the hours it entailed, its night clerk was fast becoming her new best friend. And he was kind of cute too. Much too young for her, of course, but considering how seldom she got out these days, a little harmless flirting was usually welcomed after the harrowing cases she worked. She'd known that the BAU worked on a lot of kidnappings, but she hadn't expected to be looking for a teammate on one of her first cases.

She had put her purse on top of the groceries in the bag, so now she hiked the grocery bag up on her hip and dug into her purse for her car keys. She scanned the parking lot. There were only two cars there, one of them hers and the other belonging to the clerk. Her pumps made her footsteps echo across the almost empty lot.

She opened the back door of her car, put the grocery bag on the seat and closed the door with her hip. Then she opened the front door and tossed her purse over onto the passenger seat. As she lifted one foot to step into the car, a beefy arm wrapped around her waist, catching her off-balance. Her scream of surprise was cut short as a hand covered her mouth.

Using her car keys she stabbed into the arm around her waist, which flexed and loosened, but didn't let go. He was wearing too many clothes to be hurt by her keys. She let go of the car keys and went for her gun, but a third hand was already there, pulling it out of its holster. Trying to break free she managed to step on her assailants toes and elbow him in the gut. Unfortunately he was wearing steel-toe boots, and while the elbow elicited a nice, satisfactory grunt of pain, the grip around her upper body didn't lessen. She was dragged backwards a few steps and a man in a ski mask appeared in her line of sight, holding a gun on her.

"Shh," the man holding her shushed in her ear. Reluctantly she stopped struggling. An SUV pulled up behind them and still under gunpoint, seething with anger, Prentiss was manhandled into it. She heard the tires squeal as the car sped out of the parking lot. As they drove the man sitting in the back seat with her wound duct tape thickly around her wrists and tied a blindfold over her eyes. The whole thing had taken less than a minute.

* * *

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Morgan was startled awake as the door banged open and the lights came on. He sat up quickly, blinking against the sharp light, his blanket slipping unnoticed to the floor.

Two of the hired henchmen, as Morgan had started to think of them, pushed a blindfolded and bound Prentiss into the room in front of them and for a moment Morgan could only stare incomprehensively at her. What was she doing here? This wasn't how it was supposed to go, was it?

One of the hired henchmen pressed a gun to Prentiss' neck. "Don't move," he growled.

Prentiss immediately froze, but Morgan knew the man hadn't been talking to her. With clenched fists he sat on the cot and watched as the other man fastened a shackle he'd brought with him around Prentiss' ankle and then the chain was secured to the same u-bolt in the wall as Morgan's. What happened next took both agents by surprise.

The man who held the gun took a hold of Prentiss' shoulders and put his leg behind her legs, swiping them out from underneath her, felling her to the floor.

Prentiss yelped in surprise and Morgan protested with an indignant "Hey!", but the man didn't hurt her. Once she was lying flat on her back, the man put a foot on her chest to keep her down. He then pulled a digital camera out of his pocket and snapped a few shots of her with her hair fanned out around her head. Morgan wondered if they'd done the same thing to him while he'd been unconscious. Then the two hired henchmen left.

Morgan quickly got off the cot and knelt by Prentiss' side. He touched her shoulder, intending to help her sit up, but she flinched away from his touch.

"Easy, Prentiss," he soothed. "It's just me."

"Morgan?" she said, turning her shrouded eyes in his direction.

"Yeah, it's me. Are you okay?" he asked as he sat her up and removed her blindfold.

She blinked at the sharp light and squinted as she looked at him. "I'm fine. What about you?"

"I'm fine," he said, moving behind her to free her hands. "What day is it?"

Prentiss twisted to look at him. "Is that to check if I have a concussion or don't you know?"

Morgan gave her a tight smile. "I don't know. I was unconscious when I got here, I don't know for how long."

"It's Friday," she said bringing her now free hands in front of her. She peeled off the last of the duct tape from her wrist and looked at her watch. "Or Saturday, really. It's 1.45 a.m. Are you sure you're all right?" She'd just gotten a good look at the protruding lump on his head. "Here, follow my finger."

"It's been about 28 hours since I was kidnapped then," Morgan said, doing the math in his head. "And I don't have a concussion either." He batted her finger away and then took her hand to pull her up from the floor. "What did they hit me with anyway?"

"One of your football trophies."

"Oh man," Morgan groaned, sinking down on a cot. "Which one? Did it break? It wasn't the 1992 championship, was it?"

"Uh…" Prentiss stared blankly at him. "I- It was brown with a gold football on top… or something like that."

She sat down next to him, her hand once again going to his head. He winced and pulled away from her touch.

"It's not going to get better by you poking at it."

"Sorry."

They sat quietly for awhile, each lost in their own morose thoughts.

"So I assume you've been looking for me," Morgan said at length.

"Of course."

"And how's that going?"

--

The phone woke Reid at four a.m.

"Yeah?" He cleared his throat and rubbed his gritty eyes.

"Get dressed," Gideon said as a way of greeting. "I'm on my way to pick you up."

"Morgan?" Reid asked excitedly, sitting up in bed. "Do you have a lead? Did you find him?"

"No," Gideon said shortly. "Prentiss is missing."

"What?" Reid exclaimed unbelievingly as he got out of bed and started looking for clean socks. "How-?"

"Her car has been found abandoned on a parking lot, halfway between Quantico and her place," Gideon said. "It's unlocked and her things are still in it. It looks as if she's been kidnapped too. From now on none of us go anywhere alone, so wait for me. Hotch's picking up JJ and they'll meet us at the crime scene. I'm ten minutes out. And pack a bag, you probably won't be going home any time soon."

--

The parking lot outside the convenience store Prentiss favored was awash in red and blue strobing lights. Patrol cars were blocking off most of the parking lot and yellow tape had been roped in a large square around Prentiss' car.

An hour or so earlier the store had been empty of customers and the clerk had taken the opportunity to go out for a cigarette break. Prentiss was a regular during his shift, so he recognized her car. Knowing that it had been at least two hours since she'd left, he'd gotten worried. The car was parked underneath a streetlight, so it wasn't until he got close that he saw that the interior lights were on. Then he saw that the door wasn't closed properly, and when he saw both the grocery bag and purse in the car he called the police. The first patrol officer on the scene had looked in Prentiss' purse and when he found her FBI badge he had sounded the alarm.

Hotchner and JJ had beaten the other two agents to the site and when Gideon and Reid stepped out of Gideon's car JJ met them with two steaming Styrofoam cups of coffee. Reid gratefully wrapped his hands around the cup. The night was chilly and he'd forgotten his gloves.

"What have you got so far?" Gideon asked, sipping his coffee.

Hotchner, standing with his back braced against his own car, answered. "Prentiss' car was unlocked, the front door open. A grocery bag was in the back seat, her purse in the front. They just found her gun underneath the car. I'd say she's been kidnapped too. If she'd just left her car, to pursue someone for example, she would have had her gun with her. The most likely scenario is that whoever grabbed her also took away her gun and tossed it there."

"Can we assume that it's the same kidnappers?" JJ asked.

"We can never assume anything," Gideon said gravely. "But under the circumstances I think we can safely make that our working theory. The chances that there are two separate groups of kidnappers targeting our team at the same time are very small."

"That's a theory that marks all of us as potential next victims," Reid pointed out needlessly.

"Yes," Hotchner said. "We are to exercise extreme caution from here on. There's no need to give these people, whoever they are, any more ammo. Still no contact with the kidnappers?" he asked Gideon.

"I would've called you if I'd heard anything."

"Is there anything else?" Reid asked.

"Tire tracks," JJ said, pointing to the ground behind Prentiss' car. "It looks like someone accelerated hard there."

Reid walked over and looked at the black marks on the asphalt. "Will you be able to identify the make and model?" he asked the forensic tech that was photographing them.

"Probably," the tech answered. "But if it's a generic brand that's not going to help much. If you find me a car to compare it with though… See that?" he pointed to what in Reid's eyes appeared to be a smudge. "There's some kind of damage to the right back tire. A unique signature. But, as I said, I need to have a car to compare with."

The team stayed at the crime scene a little while longer, but it was soon obvious that they were superfluous there. They had already drawn their conclusions on what had happened, the rest was up to the forensic team.

The ride to Quantico was a quiet one.

Back at the office Hotchner took one look at Gideon and sent him off to get some sleep. While the others had gotten a few hours of sleep during the night, Gideon had pulled the night shift, and Hotchner wanted the whole team to be on top. Hotchner then locked himself into his office. He had some difficult calls to make. JJ too excused herself and disappeared into her office, leaving Reid alone in the empty bullpen. It was still an hour or so before the normal workday started.

Reid decided to start sketching on the victimology, because even though they felt confident to proceed with the theory that Morgan and Prentiss had been kidnapped because of their work with the BAU, Gideon was right to say that they should never assume anything. But no matter how Reid twisted and turned every thought, he always came back to the same conclusion. Except for work, Morgan and Prentiss had nothing in common. Background, social class, race, sex, hair color; they didn't share any of the focal points serial offenders usually zeroed in on.

But Prentiss hadn't been with them very long, they had only worked a handful of cases together. So if this was in retaliation to a case they had had since she joined them it shouldn't be too difficult to find out. But off the top of his head, Reid couldn't figure out which one. Unless the kidnappers had mistaken Prentiss for Elle. But that couldn't be, he deducted after some thought. Prentiss was taken from a parking lot in the middle of the night. That meant that her kidnapper would have to have been following her. Since it was highly unlikely that someone could've done that from within the Quantico area, that meant that they would have to have been waiting for her on the outside, in the dark, meaning that they had to have known what kind of car she drove and the license plate number. It was a planned abduction, and someone with that level of planning would know that Prentiss had replaced Elle on the team.

Around seven Garcia came in, a large, polka dot umbrella hanging over her arm. "Is there any news?" she asked breathlessly.

Reid faltered for a moment, not knowing how to break it to her. "I-, uh, something's happened."

Garcia looked expectantly at him. "Did you find him?"

"No," Reid shook his head, his eyes downcast. "It's Prentiss. She's been kidnapped too."

"What?" Garcia's face fell and she stared incomprehensively at him. "How could that happen?"

Reid told her everything they knew so far and she listened intently. "Surveillance," she said then. "It's a public area, there has to be surveillance. I'll look through all CCTV footage I can get my hands on. I'll find out what happened."

**--**

After lunch Garcia had put together a few minuets of footage from different surveillance cameras for them to view. She had found a camera that had, at an odd angle, filmed an SUV parked behind the corner of the convince store, and two men with ski masks who kept looking around the corner for something. Suddenly they walked out of frame and a few moments later the car started. It rounded the corner, but the camera cut the frame too high for the license plate to be visible.

Another camera showed, at a distance, the short fight between Prentiss and her assailants before she was unceremoniously dragged into the car and it sped off, leaving only rubber behind.

"I tried tracking the car through different cameras," Garcia said, "But I lost it after a few blocks. I couldn't make out the license plate. Sorry."

She used the remote control to bring up a few more images. "I also managed to follow them back for a few blocks. They were definitely following her."

The team looked at each other.

"This isn't good," JJ commented. "They probably have some sort of surveillance on all of us. How do we play this?"

"Very carefully," Gideon said.

"We don't go home for awhile," Hotchner said, ticking off the points. "We never go anywhere alone, we use the bureau's cars instead of our own and we keep our eyes open. Let's make it difficult for them."

The others nodded solemnly.

"Me too?" Garcia asked.

Gideon and Hotchner looked at each other, their eyes keeping a silent conversation.

"You're not an official member of our team," Hotchner said after a while. "It's much less likely that you're a target. But nevertheless, you should be extra vigilant. Do you have anyone you can stay with or who can stay with you?"

"Sure," she said. "Henry."

Hotchner nodded. "Good. And be careful. If you see anything suspicious, don't hesitate to tell us."

Garcia promised.

--

That night Henry quietly walked into Garcia's office.

"Hi kitten," he said as he bent down and put his arms around Garcia from behind and kissed her neck.

"Henry!" Garcia gasped in surprise, having been engrossed in her work. "What are you doing here?"

"Our date, remember?" Henry asked. "It's Saturday night. I've got reservations at that Italian place you like."

"Oh. Oh! I'm so sorry, I meant to call you." Garcia turned around and faced him. "I'm gonna have to cancel."

Henry frowned as he looked down at Garcia's upset face. "What's the matter, honey? Has something happened?"

Garcia nodded. "You know Morgan and Prentiss, right?"

"Sure," Henry said. "Prentiss is the new girl, right?"

"Right. Well, both of them are missing, or rather, both of them have been kidnapped."

"Oh my god," Henry said, a shocked expression on his face. "That's terrible! Do you have any leads?"

Garcia shook her head. "Not yet."

"Well," Henry said. "Don't worry about the date. We'll have a rain check when you have found them."

Garcia stood up from her chair, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she whispered in his ear.

"For what?" he asked, half-laughing as he hugged her back.

"For saying when and not if."

He pulled back and looked at her. "You work with the best people in the business. Of course you'll find them. And don't worry about me. I'll get out of your hair so you can get back to work. But I want you to call me if you need me, okay? If you need to talk or need someone to bring by some food or something. I'm there for you. Or if you need a ride. Call me for a ride home at night, okay? I don't want you to go out by yourself. Not if there's someone out there kidnapping FBI agents."

"I'm not really an agent, you know," Garcia said, picking invisible lint off Henry's suit.

"But still." Henry took a hold of her chin and turned her face up so he could look her in the eyes. "I don't want anything to happen to you. So just humor me on this one, okay? Please? Just call me when you're ready to go home and I'll come pick you up."

"Okay," Garcia smiled. "I was actually going to ask if I could stay with you for a few days."

"Mi casa es su casa," Henry immediately answered.

"Thank you, Henry. You're the best." At that moment her cell phone beeped. She read the text message. "I have to go to a briefing, but I'll probably be able to go home after that. Wait for me here?"

Henry gave her a kiss. "Of course."

She smiled at him and started towards the round table room, leaving him standing in the doorway, watching her as she walked away.

--

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

Around eight o'clock Sunday morning, one of the henchmen opened the door, put two paper bags right inside the threshold and then pulled back to leave.

"Wait," Prentiss called before he had a chance to close the door. The henchman stopped, one hand resting on the doorknob and looked at her, his face completely void of expression.

"Listen," Prentiss continued, careful to keep her distance and appear non-threatening. "I don't know what Henry's been telling you, but we're FBI agents. Keeping us locked up here is a big mistake. Whatever he's paying you, trust me, it's not worth it. If you help us, then we can help you. We can get you a deal and…" The door shut in her face.

"Well, thanks for nothing," she called at the closed door, giving it a bash for good measure.

"Feel better now?" Morgan asked from where he was lying on a cot, one arm crocked behind his head.

Prentiss glared at him and picked up the paper bags, frowning at the smell coming out of them. "And to think I used to like hamburgers," she said, handing one of the bags to Morgan, who sat up to receive it. "This is the fourth consecutive meal consisting of hamburgers."

"Seventh for me," Morgan said morosely, taking the lukewarm French fries out of the bag. Always finger food, no utensils for the hostages.

"I'm just saying," Prentiss complained, pushing a straw through the slit in the lid of her cup of soda. "McDonalds has got a breakfast menu, how hard can it be to change up the order once in a while?"

"Could we just eat?"

"There has to be something we can do," Prentiss said after a few bites of her hamburger. "There has to be a way out we haven't thought about yet."

"Like what?" Morgan asked tiredly.

"Like… breaking the chains?"

"Tried it."

"Breaking the u-bolt?"

"Tried it."

"Breaking down the door?"

"Tried it. Twice."

"Gnawing off your own foot?" She was exaggerating and she knew it, but damn, she was frustrated.

"Tell you what," Morgan snapped at her. "Why don't you try that? If it works you can come back and get me."

They ate in silence, each mulling over their own thoughts. What would this day bring?

* * *

The rest of the team had spent the night in some of the facility's Spartan overnight quarters, just a chair, a bed – sometimes a bunk bed – and a few hangers on a rack. They had started their workday over breakfast in the in-house cafeteria before heading up to the bullpen.

Not long after they'd come up to the bullpen, JJ got the call they'd been waiting for. She collected Garcia from her office and headed up to Hotchner's office, where the three men were assembled.

"I've just gotten a heads up from the mailroom," JJ said, sticking her head into the office. "We've gotten a letter. The mailroom have checked it out and deemed it safe. It's on its way up now."

"Let's take it in the conference room," Hotchner decided and led the way out of his office.

They gathered in the round table room to wait impatiently. A few minutes later a man stuck his head into the room and handed JJ an ordinary manila envelope. "We've scanned it and x-rayed it and checked it for prints. It's a self-seal envelope, so no DNA. Now it's all yours. Hope it's good news."

Reid looked at the envelope as JJ handed it over to Hotchner who opened it. It looked so thin, so insignificant. Reid didn't know what he'd been expecting, but an envelope that might contain the lives of two of his friends should look more important, shouldn't it?

Hotchner shook a folded paper out of the envelope and a photo fell on the table, face down.

"Is that…" Garcia asked shakingly, staring at the photo.

Gideon picked the photo up and looked at it. "No," he said, before showing it to the others.

The photo was of two young men, looking to be somewhere in their late twenties. One was dark, the other blond. They had an arm slung around each other's shoulders and saluted the photographer with soda cans. They were grinning widely. It looked as if the photo had been taken on an outdoor patio of a restaurant.

"Who are they?" Garcia asked as the photo was passed around the table.

"My guess would be Robert Marquez and Donnie Nelson," Hotchner said before he started reading the ransom note out loud.

"Our brothers Robert Marquez and Donnie Nelson sit falsely jailed due to an unjust and corrupt system. The real crimes have been committed to them, not by them. The agents will also sit falsely jailed until our brothers have been returned to us. Should that not occur, the agents will forfeit their lives. You shall be contacted at noon tomorrow. It's signed HBM. Who are HBM? A gang?" Hotchner looked at the rest of them and passed the note on to Gideon who sat on his right.

They all shook their heads at his gaze. No one recognized the acronym, not even Reid, but Garcia had her laptop open on the table. She did a quick search.

"HBM… HBM… Ah, here it is. Humanity Before Money. It's a-" her voice suddenly faltered. "It's a terrorist organization."

Reid blinked rapidly a couple of times. "Terrorists?" he said completely baffled. "This is an act of terrorism?"

"According to the FBI database," Garcia said. "Their own website says they are patriots who take action."

"What does that mean?" JJ asked.

"Probably that they do more than write protest letters," Reid said as the letter ended up in his hands. "This is a strange ransom note. There's no video, no photographs of the hostages holding today's newspaper, no evidence that they have them. Their names aren't even mentioned."

Gideon agreed. "All the emotions are focused on their own people, but they're very cold towards Prentiss and Morgan. They don't matter."

"The language is strange too," JJ remarked. "Very formal. I wonder who wrote it."

"It does seem to be the work of one man," Hotchner said, "Not a group effort and yet it's signed by the whole organization."

"A strong leader perhaps?" Gideon said. "We need to find out more about this organization."

"Yeah," JJ said, "Like, what's the connection between us and HBM? Is there one?" She looked around at the shaking heads.

"None that we know of." Hotchner said.

"What about Prentiss?" Garcia asked.

"What about her?" Hotchner wondered.

"Aren't her parents diplomats or something? Aren't they susceptible to terrorist attacks?"

"Then the ransom demand should've gone to them," Hotchner said. "And Morgan wouldn't have been targeted. I spoke to Ambassador Prentiss this morning. She hadn't heard anything. But I'll call again and see if she remembers ever having heard of or had problems with HBM. I need to update the Director too." He rubbed his forehead. "She's gonna want to bring anti-terrorism in now. Reid? Garcia? Can you do the research on HBM?"

"Yes sir," Garcia readily agreed.

"Why didn't we get a ransom demand when Morgan went missing?" JJ wondered, "Why now?"

Reid shrugged. "Maybe they waited until they had an even trade. Two hostages for two prisoners."

"About the prisoners," Hotchner said. "Marquez and Nelson, who are they?"

Garcia soon had the details concerning their convictions up on her screen. "Two years ago the HBM had been making threats against a politician campaigning for a place in the senate. Apparently HBM didn't approve of the would-be senator's weapons platform. Nelson and Marquez placed explosives in the campaign bus, only meaning to destroy it and scare him, but unbeknownst to them two interns came to work early to stock up the bus for an upcoming trip. They were both killed and Nelson and Marquez ended up in a federal facility called Lincoln Correctional Center. It's-"

"I know it," Gideon said. "That's, what? Hour and a half drive from here?"

"Depending on traffic." Hotchner agreed.

"We need to go to there and talk to Nelson and Marquez," Gideon said. "JJ, do you think you can get us immediate access?"

"Sure." She immediately started going through her telephone directory.

"Can you do it from the car?" Gideon asked. "I want to leave now."

JJ and Gideon gathered up their things and left for the garage. Hotchner went to shut himself into his office to give the director an update.

Reid looked at Garcia. "So… research?"

"That's the magic word, baby."

* * *

"Everything's set up," JJ said, shutting her cell phone. "They're moving Nelson and Marquez into separate interrogation rooms as we speak and the warden's going to meet us at the door. He's arranging extra security around the prisoners too; he's worried about the added threat."

Gideon didn't respond. JJ looked at him. "Gideon?"

"I think we're being followed," Gideon said calmly, his eyes seeking out the rearview mirror.

"What?" JJ twisted around in her seat, looking out the back window. There was a black SUV with tinted windows, not unlike their own, driving about 20 yards behind them, neither gaining on them nor falling back. It did match the SUV that had kidnapped Prentiss, but then so did most SUVs.

"Are you sure?" she asked, turning back. "This is the only road to the prison, anyone with an errand there would be driving on this road."

"I'm driving five miles below the speed limit and there's no traffic," Gideon said grimly. "Most people would've tried to pass us by now."

JJ looked over her shoulder again. "Maybe we should check it out... You know, just in case? Can you read the license plate number?" She pulled out a notepad and a pen from her bag and put her cell phone in her lap.

Dividing his attention between the road and the rearview mirror, Gideon slowly read out the license plate number.

"That's it?" JJ asked as she read it back to him. At the confirming nod she said, "Okay, I'll call Garcia."

She picked up the cell phone, but was distracted as Gideon said through clenched teeth, "Here they come."

"What?" JJ looked back and saw the other SUV speed up. She couldn't help feeling a twinge of nervousness, especially as she observed Gideon's set jaw. She hoped it would turn out to just be paranoia on her part, but somehow she doubted it. "Gideon? What should we do?"

But Gideon was too focused on his driving to pay her much heed. He had sped up slightly as the other car closed in on them, mostly to spur them along. As the car came up alongside of them Gideon stepped on the brakes, only just avoiding a collision with the other car as it swerved in in front of them, its front wheels ending up hanging over the side of the road into the ditch. It was hard to say if this had been their intention, to cut them off, or if they'd tried to crash into them.

Gideon threw the car into reverse before it had even come to a complete stop and sped backwards. JJ had punched in the speed dial for Hotchner's phone, but only gotten a busy signal. She tried Reid's number, but before she could press the connect button, her cell phone and notebook slipped out of her hands at the sudden brake and as she bent down to retrieve it, she hit her head on the dashboard as Gideon swerved the car hard.

"Ow," she complained, moving a hand up to rub at the back of her head.

Gideon grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back into a sitting position.

"Leave it," he told her as he fought to control the SUV in reverse. "Forget the phone for now. Hold on."

She grabbed the handle above the door and held on for dear life.

The verge was wide and Gideon turned hard onto it in order to turn the car around, even as the other SUV got back up on the asphalt and turned around as well. Gideon knew that their only chance was either to outrun the other car, or somehow drive them off the road. The Lincoln Correctional Center was rather isolated. They were still fifteen minutes or so from it, but it would also take approximately fifteen minutes to get back to the nearest community. Traffic was very light on this side of the community, so even if they very well could meet another car, they couldn't count on it.

The road wasn't very curvy, so Gideon felt safe to press the accelerator deep into the floor, his hands gripping the steering wheel hard.

JJ had one hand on the door handle and the other clutching her seatbelt as she tried to keep from sliding across the seat from the sharp steering. She looked back through the back window. "They're close," she said.

"I know."

Then the other SUV rear ended them. The impact pitched them both forward, their seat belts jerking them back into their seats with a groan. The car was sent skidding, but Gideon skillfully steered around the skid until the next impact, this one much harder. Gideon fought to keep up with the car's movements and braked hard, but it was too late. They were already on their way across the opposite lane and into the forest surrounding the road. The tires lost contact with the gravel and sent the car hurtling off the road.

JJ's panicked scream was drowned in shattering glass and screaming metal as a thick tree branch met the windshield, sending pieces of glass raining down on the car's passengers, before the car came to a brutal stop as it impacted a tree.

* * *

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

Gideon pushed the deflating airbag out of his face and shook off the momentary daze

Gideon pushed the deflating airbag out of his face and shook off the momentary daze, coughing against a pressure in his chest and the soreness in his throat due to the powdery dust the airbag emitted. The kidnappers would be coming for them, soon. He ran the back of his hand underneath his nose. It came back bloody.

The heavy tree branch had by stroke of luck, or maybe divine fortitude, gone between the two front seats, obscuring his view of JJ, but not harming either of them, although smaller twigs were scratching at his face and neck. He called JJ's name, but there was no answer. He turned off the engine. The branch had helped slow the rapid deceleration, and while the sturdy car's front was smashed and buckled, the engine was still intact.

Twigs and leaves filled the space between them and Gideon had to stretch his neck to try and see over the branch and between the twigs. He caught a glimpse of blond hair, resting against the crackled passenger side window. Reaching under the thick branch, his hand blindly found an arm which he followed down to the wrist. JJ's pulse was strong, but she stayed unresponsive even as Gideon shook her arm and called her name again. Small slivers of glass stuck in his fingers, some cutting him with tiny, stinging cuts.

He pulled his arm back and drew his gun. Then he locked the doors. A futile attempt perhaps, a last stand sort of thing, seeing as there wasn't a windshield anymore. He held the gun ready, waiting… But they didn't come for him; they went round to the passenger side first. The door might be locked, but the cracked window was easy for the kidnappers to break. Gideon heard the shattering window and reached under the branch again to hold onto JJ, but she was soon dragged out of his hands and out of the car.

As Gideon prepared to follow them out, another masked man appeared outside his window, a gun pointed at Gideon. Gideon responded in kind, raising his own gun.

"You don't want to do that, Agent Gideon," the man said. "As you are aware, Agent Jareau is now in our custody and I dare say her continued good health depends on your cooperation. Please put down the gun and step out of the car."

"Okay." Gideon could see his disadvantaged position and decided to save himself a battle. He put the gun on the floor and unlocked the door. The man pulled it open for him and stepped back to allow him to get out. Gideon tried to unbuckle his seatbelt, but the latch had caught and wouldn't come out. He could sense the other man's impatience as he jiggled the latch.

"Come on." The man wagged the gun at him.

The latch finally came loose and Gideon stepped out of the car; twigs, leaves and pieces of glass raining off of him. As he set his feet on the ground his knees buckled and he had to grab the open door for support. He hadn't felt it before, but he'd banged his right knee pretty bad.

"Up against the car, please, and put your hands behind your back," the man ordered.

Gideon did as asked. Turning his head he could see JJ, still unconscious, being carried up the short slope towards the still running car by two men. The man behind him wound duct tape tightly around his wrists. Then a piece of cloth was tied over his eyes.

Blindfolded Gideon was pushed stumbling and limping up the slope and pushed up against the other SUV. He felt hands in his pockets, emptying them out. Then he was helped into the back seat of the SUV. He was secured by the seatbelt and then something fell into his lap. A head, he soon realized, and by the feel of the long hair, it would be JJ.

"Is she okay?" he asked, feeling warm blood soaking his sweater.

"She'll live," was the curt answer. "For now at least."

* * *

Hotchner stood in his office, staring out a window at the buildings below. The phone call to the director had quickly turned into a meeting as he'd been called up to her office. As he had suspected, the word terrorists had sent the director into a frenzy. She'd been quite adamant that the BAU was now in over their heads and that an anti-terrorism unit would be dispatched to them to help with the investigation. Hotchner had snorted at that. Help them, sure. More like railroad over them to claim the case as theirs, and there was nothing Hotchner could do about it. He'd asked if he could choose which anti-terrorism team that would be helping them. The director had simply stared at him and informed him that a team would show up at the BAU within a few hours. Hotchner was just worried that the anti-terrorism team would lose focus of the hostages in their eager to find and destroy a terrorist cell.

"Hotch?"

Hotchner turned around. Reid stood in the doorway to his office, looking anxious. Hotchner didn't expect good news.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Gideon and JJ never arrived at Lincoln and they aren't answering their cell phones."

Hotchner looked at his watch. "They're not that much overdue, they could've just hit traffic."

"Then why aren't they answering their phones?"

Hotchner took a deep breath and let it out again. "Okay, let's not panic. Just try again."

"I have," Reid said. "I've called several times."

"Keep trying," Hotchner said, but in his mind he was already going over who he could call to find out what had happened.

* * *

Morgan was doing sit-ups on the floor, working off excess energy. Prentiss had curled up on a cot with her back towards the room. Morgan didn't know if she was asleep or not.

When the door opened, Gideon was ushered in first, blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back, just like Prentiss had been. There was a large bloodstain on the stomach of his sweater and some on his pants.

"Gideon," Morgan said, sitting up straight and then scrambling up on his feet as the room suddenly felt crowded. Gideon turned his head towards him, but didn't speak.

Gideon was subjected to the same treatment as Prentiss had been, being shackled, put on the floor and photographed, without protesting. The henchmen allowed Morgan and Prentiss to help him up, but made it clear that they shouldn't untie him yet. Morgan did, however, slip off the blindfold.

A moment later the third henchman came in, carrying JJ over his shoulder. He put her down on the floor surprisingly carefully, supporting her unconscious body as he lowered her down. There was a large, bleeding gash at her hairline, the soft tissue around it swollen and purple. The henchman arranged her hands to lay splayed limply around her face. He then left the room without a word, letting the other henchmen take care of the shackling and photographing.

As soon as the door closed behind the last henchman, Prentiss knelt on the floor next to JJ and checked her pulse and breathing. JJ's blond hair and pink blouse were dark and sticky with dry and drying blood. Morgan tore the duct tape off Gideon's wrists and then joined Prentiss on the floor while Gideon tiredly and with a grimace of pain sank down on one of the cots and watched them.

"What happened?" Prentiss asked.

"They ran us off the road," Gideon answered, rubbing at his chest where the seatbelt had left a deep bruise. "How is she?"

"Unconscious," Prentiss said. "But it looks like the bleeding has almost stopped. Morgan, help me get her up on the cot. How long has she been out?"

"An hour maybe," Gideon answered.

Together Prentiss and Morgan lifted JJ up on the cot. Prentiss disappeared behind the screen and Morgan sat on the floor, leaning against JJ's cot.

"What about you?" Morgan asked Gideon. "Are you okay? Were you hurt?"

"No," Gideon said, his hand still on his chest. "I just banged my knee a little."

"But the blood…" Morgan indicated Gideon's sweater.

"Not mine."

Prentiss came back out, hanging her dress jacket on the screen, buttoning the last button in her blouse. In her hand she held the chemise she'd been wearing underneath it.

"Tear this up, will you?" She handed it to Morgan and picked up one of the cups lying around from one of the meals.

"Looks expensive," Morgan commented.

"Just tear it up," Prentiss said as she went and filled the cup with water.

"What do you know so far?" Gideon asked. He sat on the cot and watched as Morgan and Prentiss tended to JJ.

Morgan's story was short and cool, except for the vehemence in his voice when he told Gideon that Henry was behind their kidnappings and once they'd reminded Gideon who Henry was he became thoughtful. How much information had Henry been able to gather? Serial offenders often wanted to inject themselves into the investigation, but that wasn't the feeling he had gotten from his kidnappers. And it didn't tie in with the terrorist organization.

"So where were you when they grabbed you?" Prentiss asked as she wiped blood off JJ's face and washed the wound, making fresh blood well up in the cut.

"On our way to the Lincoln Correctional Center." Gideon answered. "We were about fifteen minutes out."

"And you said it was about an hour ago?" Prentiss was pressing a folded piece of cloth hard against JJ's wound, kind of glad that she was unconscious for this.

"Maybe an hour and a half," Gideon amended his earlier statement.

"It took about an hour for them to take me here too," Prentiss said. "Assuming they drove straight here. So I'd say we're still in Virginia."

Gideon looked thoughtful. He was the only one who'd been to both kidnapping scenes. "That would mean that we doubled back from the prison and are somewhere between Quantico and Lincoln. Good. Morgan?"

"I wouldn't know," he answered as he tugged off JJ's shoes and spread a blanket over her. "I was unconscious when I got here." He went around to the top of the cot and carefully held JJ's head up so Prentiss could wrap pieces of the shredded chemise as a bandage around it.

"I think we're in a basement in a residential house," Prentiss said once she'd washed the blood off her hands. "We definitely drove into a garage and I was taken from it directly into a stairwell that led down."

"I got the impression that you stepped from the garage onto a landing," Gideon added, "And that the stairs went both up and down. The door we came in through was on the opposite side of this door, so we're underneath the house, not the garage."

"So probably a residential area somewhere between Lincoln and Quantico," Morgan said, getting up from the floor and standing next to Prentiss in front of Gideon's cot. "That's still a lot of houses to search, if they can even figure out where to start looking for us. Can they?"

"No," Gideon shook his head. "No, we… they can't."

"Why were you going to Lincoln anyway?" Morgan asked.

"We got a ransom demand this morning," Gideon said.

"You did?" Morgan and Prentiss said in unison.

"A terrorist organization called HBM is claiming responsibility for the kidnappings. They want two of their members released from prison in exchange for your, or now our, release."

"Terrorists?" Morgan echoed.

"HBM?" Prentiss frowned. "I've never heard of them."

"Humanity Before Money," Gideon said. "It's a small organization."

"But why would they-" Morgan started.

"We don't know," Gideon admitted. "Do either of you know the names Robert Marquez or Donnie Nelson?"

Looking at each other, they both shook their heads.

"Reid and Garcia were looking for a connection between us and them when we left," Gideon said. "I don't know if they've come up with anything, though."

"And how does Henry fit in?" Morgan wondered. "I never pegged him for a terrorist. Gideon, why do you keep rubbing your chest? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing."

JJ groaned and Morgan turned to her, crouching at the cot, Gideon's aches and pains momentarily forgotten. "JJ? You awake? Can you hear me?"

Prentiss also moved closer to the cot, hovering over Morgan's shoulder.

JJ turned her head and squeezed her eyes tightly together, pain lines spreading across her forehead.

"JJ?"

"Owww," she moaned, a hand flailing up towards her head.

"JJ? Come on, open your eyes." Morgan called, tapping her cheek.

She squinted at him. "Mo'ga?" she slurred.

"Yeah it's me. How're you doing?"

"You back?" She reached out a wobbly hand as if to touch him to see if he was real, but he caught it in his own hand and put it gently on her stomach, keeping his hand loosely curled around hers.

"No, sorry, I'm not back. It's you who've been kidnapped. Do you remember what happened?"

"Acc… Accident?" she mumbled, her eyes once again closed.

"That's right," Morgan encouraged her.

"My head hurts," she complained.

"I know. Anything else?" Morgan asked. "Do you hurt anywhere else?"

JJ looked as if she was trying hard to feel something. "I don't know," she finally said. Suddenly she openedher eyes wide in fear. "Gideon."

"I'm here," Gideon said, moving into her line of sight. "I'm fine."

Prentiss also moved herself into the small space. "We're all fine. Get some rest, JJ. We'll figure this out… somehow."

* * *

TBC…


	6. Chapter 6

A state police trooper guided Hotchner and Reid around the accident site. It wasn't as bad as Reid had feared. When Hotchner had put down the phone with a somber face and told him that Gideon and JJ's car had been in an accident, Reid's overacting imagination had immediately envisioned a burning wreck and his friends' bodies charred beyond recognition, but the car just stood at the bottom of a short slope with its banged up backside towards the road and its grill smashed against a tree.

"It was called in by a prison guard on the way home from work," the trooper explained. "The site was empty when we got here. We've got Search and Rescue coming to organize a search party through the woods."

"You're not going to find them," Reid said, zipping up his windbreaker. The wind was picking up.

"Reid," Hotchner said warningly.

"I'm just saying…"

"Reid, please." Hotchner turned to the trooper. "Did the prison guard see anything else? Did he meet any cars on the way?"

The trooper shook his head and looked off into the forest as if trying to recall the conversation he'd had with the guard. "No… no, I don't think so. It's pretty deserted here on Sundays, he hadn't seen anyone since he left Lincoln and there was no one here."

Reid shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. "I'm gonna take a look at the car."

A few minutes later Hotchner joined him beside the wreck. Reid gave him a look and then walked away giving him some privacy. He'd seen all he wanted to see anyway. The blood, the glass, that huge branch that could so easily have gone through a human body. He was almost glad Gideon and JJ had been kidnapped, at least if the alternative had been to be pierced by that thing.

Hotchner stood for a long time looking at the blood splattered over what was left of the passenger side window and his mouth tightened into a thin line, as if he couldn't quite curb his anger this time. In his own way, Hotchner was the most compassionate of them all. With his silent support he could make any victim feel comforted and safe.

Reid came back and stood at his elbow, having taken a look at the ground around the car. "Do you think she's all right?" he asked. They both knew that Gideon would've been driving.

Hotchner opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted.

"Hotchner," a man called from the road. Hotchner looked up and groaned inwardly.

"Dobson," he greeted the other man coldly, climbing up the slope with Reid on his heels. "What are you doing here?"

Close to six feet tall, Special Agent Simon Dobson was well fit and well dressed, with a bulge on his suit jacket that hid the gun resting at the small of his back. His age was somewhere between Hotchner and Gideon's and he had razor-cut, black hair with a reseeding hairline and graying sideburns. He was clean-shaven with a once broken nose and brown, piercing eyes.

"Terrorism is my turf, remember?" Dobson had a mischievous glint in his eyes. "The director called me in to take over the case."

"No," Hotchner said simply. Dobson was the reason he'd asked the director to be able to pick the anti-terrorist unit of his choice. Dobson had a great success record, but he was rude, stubborn and difficult to work with. The two agents had rubbed each other the wrong way on every case they had had the misfortune to work together on. Luckily it had been a few years since the last time.

"Ah, relax, Hotchner," Dobson said, self-satisfaction shining in his face. "I'm not bumping you from the investigation, I'm just bumping you from the lead. Besides, I hear you're running low on staff anyway. But don't worry, I've brought my own team. They're the best in the game."

Running low on staff…? Reid blanched at the wanton insensitivity. Hotchner saw his reaction and discreetly shook his head at him before he made the introductions.

"Reid, this is Special Agent Simon Dobson. Dobson, this is Dr. Spencer Reid."

Dobson glanced at Reid. "Yeah, hi, what's up Doc?" He turned back to Hotchner and popped a piece of chewing gum into his mouth. By the smell Reid deducted that it was a nicotine gum and Dobson's fingertips and teeth told the tale of a long addiction.

"You still want to go to the prison?" Dobson asked.

"Yes, Reid and I are on our way now."

Dobson shook his head. "No. From now on you and Doc stay apart. I don't want you to keep presenting yourself as easy targets. I've brought bodyguards for you, courtesy of Director Strauss. Don't go anywhere without them. Always take separate cars. Hotchner, agents Marcus and Miller are yours. Doc, agents Lee and Jensen will be with you. They will take you to and from the prison. Yes," he said, holding up a hand to forestall Hotchner's question. "I'll let you do the interviews yourself."

Hotchner's eyes narrowed dangerously, he didn't look happy at being given permission to go ahead with his own investigation.

Dobson waved at four agents, standing a little way away. They separated into two pairs, each pair claiming responsibility for a BAU agent.

Reid shook hands with his bodyguards, a little disturbed by the necessity of their presence, as they led him off to a waiting car.

Standing barely five foot one over the ground and thin as a rake, but still muscular, agent Elisa Jensen was hardly a stereotypic bodyguard, but Reid had long since learnt not to judge an agent's skill based on their looks and if she met the bureau's requirements then who was he to argue? She looked to be of Polynesian heritage with a wedding ring that explained her Nordic sounding last name.

Agent Ethan Lee was roughly the same height as Reid, but much heavier with wide shoulders and a body type that told of hours and hours in a gym. A blond, unruly mop of hair adorned his head and he had a healthy dose of freckles covering his snub nose. He looked like an overgrown version of Dennis the Menace and had a friendly, slightly cheeky smile to match. He immediately started chatting with Reid about anything and everything. Reid figured Lee and Morgan would get along great.

Lee put Reid in the back seat and let Jensen drive. Hotchner was also ushered into an SUV which was kept half a mile behind Reid's, with a third car in between them.

When they arrived at Lincoln Correctional Center they discovered that the warden hadn't bothered to move Nelson and Marquez out of the interrogation rooms he'd organized for Gideon and JJ, so the inmates had now been waiting for several hours without being told what or who they were waiting for. Looking at the two men from the observation room that was placed in between the two interrogation rooms, they decided that Reid would talk to Donnie Nelson and Hotchner would talk to Robert Marquez while Dobson observed them both.

* * *

Reid sat down across the table from Donnie Nelson and fiddled with a notebook and a pen for a few moments before looking up at him.

"Hello, I'm Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI's Behavioral Analyses Unit," he introduced himself, feeling the need to push his full title in hopes of a little respect from the older, more hardened man.

"Yeah?" Nelson raised his eyebrows, not looking impressed. "So?"

"You are a member of the terrorist organization HBM, aren't you?"

Nelson snorted. "Terrorists? Nah, Special Agent Doctor, you've got that wrong. We're freedom fighters." He leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and a smug grin on his face.

"But you are a member of HBM," Reid said unfazed.

"Yeah, so?"

"What skills would you say you possess that makes you an invaluable asset to the HBM?"

Nelson's face scrunched up. "Huh?"

Reid simplified. "Why do you think you're important to the organization?"

Nelson looked suspicious. "Why? If you're looking to send in an undercover agent or something, you're not gonna get any info outta me."

Reid regarded him for a moment with a slightly tilted head as if he were sizing him up. "HBM has kidnapped four federal agents. In return for their release, they're demanding that you and Robert Marquez are set free."

For the briefest moment Nelson looked absolutely flabbergasted. But in prison, a good poker face is a survival skill, and Nelson's was soon in place.

"Well it's about time," he said arrogantly, breaking out in a wide grin. "When do we leave?"

"You don't," Reid said expressionlessly "I'm just trying to figure out why they want you back so badly."

"They're my brothers," Nelson said, leaning over the table to look Reid in the eyes. "It's about loyalty."

* * *

"I want to know who's behind this, how we can get a hold of them and I want to know where my missing agents are!" Hotchner yelled, slamming his hand on the table, making Marquez jump.

Marquez had given him nothing but lip since the moment he sat foot in the room. He'd practically been oozing glee at being used as leverage against the FBI. And even Hotchner's patience had its limits.

He regretted his outburst the moment it was over. He always relied on being calm and collected when he interviewed a suspect. Never let them get to you, never let them see your emotions. Even let them believe you're on their side if it'll help. That had always been his strategy. But now four members of his team were missing and there had been blood on JJ's seat. A lot of blood. He took a deep breath and reeled his emotions it. But the crash site was still fresh in his mind. Calm and collected turned into calm, collected and ice cold and he fastened his eyes on Marquez.

"Let's try this again," he said with a steely voice.

* * *

"What do you think?" Reid asked Hotchner when they met up in the corridor outside the interrogation rooms.

Hotchner, with his arms crossed over his chest, shook his head. "Marquez doesn't know anything about their plans. He acts arrogant and all-knowing, but he doesn't have a clue."

"Neither does Nelson," Reid said. "He looked very surprised when I first told him, but then he composed himself quickly. Is it strange that HBM hasn't told them what they were planning?"

"Not necessarily," Dobson said, stepping out of the observation room. "Terrorist cells are usually built up so that no individual member, except the leader, knows more than the part of the plan he has to execute. Nelson and Marquez don't have to do anything, they just have to wait for the rescue. But I'll have some of my men stay behind and talk to them a little more. Not that I think they'll know all that much, they've been in prison for two years and probably haven't had much contact with the organization during that time. The rest of us are going back to Quantico so we can get the ball rolling on this investigation." He turned on his heels and started towards the exit, confident that the others would follow.

Hotchner looked at Reid and bit back the comment that the investigation had been well on its way for four days now, without Dobson. "Let's go," he said to Reid, disappointed that their trip here hadn't yielded anything, meaning that Gideon and JJ hadn't had to make the trip.

* * *

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

Back at Quantico Hotchner called a meeting for his remaining team members in his office. When Reid and Garcia came in he was on the phone, but he quickly finished the call with "Love you too."

"That was Haley," he explained needlessly. "She's taken Jack to her sister's, but that's mostly because she knows I won't be home for a while, and I think she likes company when she has to worry about me."

Reid smiled bleakly. He knew that even though there was no reason to suspect that the kidnappers would bother their families, Hotchner still worried, probably more than Haley did.

"Anyway," Hotchner said, gesturing for them to sit down in the visitor's chairs. "I just wanted to let you know what to expect now that the case isn't ours anymore."

"Not ours?" Garcia said, looking surprised. "What do you mean by that? How can it not be ours?"

"Well, first of all," Hotchner said, "There are only two of us left, that doesn't make for a very strong team, at least not in the director's eyes. And secondly, with the recent development, the director strongly feels that the case belongs to the anti-terrorism department. Now, with Dobson in charge things are going to be different from what we're used to. You shouldn't expect too much cooperation. I've worked with Dobson before. He has a lot of good qualities and an excellent track record, but it's always a challenge to work with him. He doesn't want others to interfere with his investigation, and he doesn't believe in profiling."

"Doesn't believe in profiling?" Reid echoed. "Then how are we supposed to-"

"There's nothing we can do," Hotchner interrupted him. "Dobson is in charge, whether we like it or not and no matter what, he'll be the one to make all final decisions. All we can do is argue so that he makes the decisions we want him to make."

"But you just said that he's not going to listen to us," Reid protested.

"No, probably not," Hotchner sighed. "But we have to try anyway."

Garcia looked between the two men. Hotchner had taken off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. In shirt and tie Hotchner and Reid were almost mirror images, except Reid always looked much sloppier as he never buttoned the top button of his shirt and his hair was rather unruly compared to Hotchner's slick hair style. But still, there was a likeness between them, especially in the determination in their eyes and Garcia suddenly felt a lot better than she had just moments ago. Maybe there only were two of them, but they were two of the best agents she'd ever met and she had the utmost confidence in them.

There was a knock on the door and without waiting for an answer Dobson stuck his head into the office. "Briefing in the conference room in five. Are you coming?"

* * *

It had been decided that even if the case now officially belonged to anti-terrorism, their headquarters would be the BAU since it was with them the kidnappers communicated, even if a large number of Dobson's agents would be working from their own desks a few floors away. So late Sunday night they all crowded into the round table room for their first joint briefing.

They started off with Hotchner filling the new agents in on what had happened so far and what evidence they'd collected. Reid thought it was disheartening to hear just how little they actually knew.

Then Hotchner took his seat and Dobson took charge, a position he clearly took for granted. Reid, Garcia and Hotchner had unconsciously grouped together at the table. The 'stay apart' order was only enforced outside the headquarters.

Dobson started off with introduction. Besides the bodyguards, who they had already met, and six other regular agents there was Leona Swartling, who was the bureau's expert on HBM and other small time terrorist cells, and Landon Jones, who was Dobson's team's computer expert. When Garcia heard this she turned worried eyes on Reid and Hotchner. Did this mean that she wouldn't be allowed to work on the case?

Dobson then invited Agent Swartling to tell them about HBM. Leona Swartling was in her forties, with short, styled brown hair, designer clothes and a dark facial expression.

"I'm actually the one who put Marquez and Nelson in prison," Swartling started her presentation harshly. "And I have no intention of ever letting them out again."

Taking the remote for the plasma screen she started clicking through tree-diagrams, mug shots and newspaper clippings as she spoke. "HBM or Humanity Before Money. They started off in the 70's and in the beginning they kept things peaceful; protest, sit-ins, the occasional hunger strike. At the start of the last war in Iraq, however, a more violent phalange broke off. Their new slogan was that a militant government breeds militant citizens. Basically, what goes around comes around. They have since recruited several extremist and radicals to their cause. They're still a rather small group, only a hundred members or so, alldomestic terrorists. The original HBM has dissociated themselves from them and changed their names to The American People for Peace and they are still peaceful. HBM's attacks have always been on a small scale, things like car bombs outside military recruitment offices and threats to different fundraisers, like elections fundraisers, support our soldiers' benefits, etc. They're not religious terrorist, they're political. Their pet peeve is still capitalism. They want their tax-dollars spent here, improving American lives, not spent overseas killing civilians. A few years ago they would've been called political activists, now they're considered leftwing extremists and terrorists. So far only one of their attacks has resulted in fatalities, incidentally the same attack that sent Nelson and Marquez to jail. Two years ago two 20-year-old interns were caught up in an explosion designed to take out a senator candidate's campaign bus."

Reid and Garcia looked at each other. Their research this morning had already given them most of the information Swartling was now presenting, but it seemed to be new information to most of the anti-terrorist agents. But then, HBM was a small organization and not a very active one.

"As I said," Swartling continued. "It's a small organization. As far as we know they only have about a hundred members, of which only about thirty or so are really active. After the incident that put Marquez and Nelson in jail they calmed down a lot, became dormant. There haven't been any new actions during the last two years, barely even a protest, but about six months ago they got a new leader, Eric McNamara, who has started them up again. It could very well be he who wrote the ransom note too. I've had some dealings with him and he talks like every word out of his mouth is part of some grand speech. He's really rallied the organization up. And I guess the new funding helped too."

"What new funding?" Hotchner asked. "I was wondering if they have the competence and economy for this kind of operation. The planning, execution, it costs a lot of money. They're not asking for a ransom, so they're not expecting to get any of it back. Can they afford it?"

"Financially, yes," Swartling answered. "We've always had their main account under discreet surveillance. A few months ago, a large sum of money appeared there. Normally that account holds about ten thousand dollars at the most; HBM has never been a financially steady organization. The new money has been impossible to trace. I've had some guys from the economic crime division on it, but all they could tell me was that the money was wired from a Swiss bank account that doesn't appear to exist. We haven't been able to determine who the money comes from or their purpose. Money laundering has been a theory, as well as payment some kind of job. Now-"

"How much money?" Hotchner interrupted.

Swartling looked at him. "2.5 million dollars."

Hotchner's eyebrows rose.

"That's a lot of money," Garcia commented.

"And as for the competence…" Swartling continued answering Hotchner's question. "I don't know. Initially I wouldn't have thought so, but I can't ignore the evidence. And McNamara is very resourceful, it's difficult to say what he's been teaching the others."

"Why would an organization claiming to fight for humanity resort to kidnapping?" the computer expert, Jones, asked.

"I don't know," Swartling said again, shaking her head. "I don't understand why HBM have suddenly turned to kidnapping. They never have before. It's a huge escalation for them. But their history shows that loyalty has always been a big deal for the members, so even if it is unexpected, it isn't unbelievable."

"That's what Nelson told me," Reid mumbled to Hotchner.

"I still don't understand what do they have to do with us?" Garcia wondered out loud. "We've never had any dealing with them, have we?"

Hotchner, who had been with the unit the longest, shook his head. "No, I can't think of a single case we've had where HBM have been involved. Maybe we've met an individual member during a case sometimes, without knowing he was with the organization, or maybe one of our old suspects have since joined them. But right now, I have no idea why they've targeted us."

"We've thought about that," Swartling said, "And right now we're cross-referencing every known member of HBM against the members of your unit. Hopefully we'll find a connection. I'm also taking a team to start rounding up certain members for questioning."

"Can we help?" Reid asked.

Swartling looked at Dobson who shook his head. "Thanks," she said, "But I think it's best if we do it ourselves. We know a lot of these guys already, we know how to deal with them. I'll tell you if they give us any pertinent information."

"Okay," Dobson finished the meeting. "You've got your assignments. Let's get to work."

By midday Monday, when they were all waiting for the promised contact with HBM, Swartling took the opportunity to brief everyone on the fact that most of the HBM had gone underground and were impossible to find. The few members they had found were now in custody and interviews had been going on throughout the night.

"Well, what did they have to say?" Dobson asked, putting a new nicotine gum in his mouth.

"Nothing," Swartling shook her head. "They're claiming innocence."

"No surprise there," Garcia muttered to Reid.

"They all say they don't know anything," Swartling continued, "But they're arrogant and not very cooperative so who knows. We've searched all of their known premises, but so far, nothing. There is of course the possibility that only a few of them are in on it."

"Excuse me, sir." A man stuck his head through the open doorway. It was the man from the mailroom who had delivered the last ransom note. He held something in his hand and Dobson waved him in.

This time it was a package, addressed to the BAU. Even though it had been declared safe, Dobson opened it very carefully. Reid stretched his neck to see the content.

Inside the small box lay a folded note and a cell phone. Dobson immediately handed the phone to Jones. "Check it out."

The note started out with a short manifesto which Dobson read out loud. "Our county is at war and civilian casualties are tragic, but expected and accepted. Remember that as you think of your agents. How many civilians have our troops mauled down during our foreign affairs? This is hypocrisy at the highest level. Robbie Marquez and Donnie Nelson are soldiers, fighting for the return of uncorrupt democracy in our country and should not be subjected to this treatment-"

"That sounds like McNamara," Swartling commented, and other anti-terrorism agents who had had dealings with the terrorist nodded their agreement.

Dobson shot her a look before continuing. "We now have four of your agents. And in our infinite generosity we are willing to trade these four lives for only two of our own. If you have any sense of loyalty towards your own you will accept our demands. If not, we will keep taking your agents until you can no longer deny us that which we want."

Reid clenched his fists under the table. They couldn't let Marquez and Nelson go, so what were they going to do?

Dobson kept reading. "At four o'clock this afternoon you will bring our brothers to the south entrance of the Garden Park. When we have confirmation that you've brought Robert Marquez and Donnie Nelson we will call you on this phone with the further instructions. Signed HBM. Jones?"

Jones looked up from his scrutiny of the phone. "It's a pre-paid, disposable cell phone. Without the original package it'll be difficult to tell where it's been bought right away. There are no numbers or anything programmed into it. We'll try and put a trace on it, but most likely they'll be calling from another disposable phone, which will make it impossible to find."

"Four o'clock," Dobson said, looking at his wrist watch. "That doesn't give us much time."

"Which is their intention," Hotchner said.

"What?"

"The less time we have, the smaller the chance is that we'll be able to set a trap," Hotchner explained.

Dobson smiled crookedly. "We'll just see about that. Swartling, call SWAT, have them send a team over. And someone get me a map of the Garden Park, wherever that is."

* * *

TBC...


	8. Chapter 8

With the many agents that would now be involved in the operation, the round table room was too small for the briefing so they had set up in the BAU bullpen. White boards had been set up and were already being filled with maps and aerial shots of the Garden Park and blueprints of the surrounding buildings. Reid had been sitting at his desk, watching as the bullpen was quickly and efficiently turned into a command center with a growing sense of irony. Usually it was his team invading an unsuspecting bullpen and turning it upside down.

Since bringing Nelson and Marquez with them for a hostage exchange was out of the question, Dobson had decided that they were going to use two agents as a decoy. The two agents that were going to play the prisoners stood side by side, already dressed in orange jumpsuits. The younger of them, Roscow, had a bit of a nervous manner, chewing gum and tapping his foot. His partner, Linner, had a much more relaxed stance, leaning back against a desk with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for instructions.

Dobson was having a low-key conversation with Roger Witchell, the captain of the SWAT team, over in a corner and Hotchner stood on the outskirts of their conversation, almost like a boy in a schoolyard who desperately wants to be in the cool gang, though by looking at the men's body language, it was clear that Captain Witchell respected him a lot more than Dobson did. This cautious demeanor wasn't like Hotchner at all and Reid was glad to know that it was only a part he was playing. He kept unobtrusive in order to gather intelligence and he knew that the best way to get his two cents in was to keep it subtle.

"All right people, gather around," Dobson called after awhile, bringing all the agents to the center of the room. Garcia pushed a chair close to Reid's and Hotchner came over and perched on the side of Reid's desk.

"Okay," Dobson called the room to order. "In less than three hours the HBM are expecting us to hand two convicted terrorists over to them. Obviously that's not happening. Roscow and Linner over there are going to be our stand-ins. We can't put two guys in prison clothes out in the open without getting a lot of attention, so we'll be keeping them inside a van where we can keep their faces in the shadows, but with an open door so they're visible from the outside. Mike, you'll be the driver," he said to one of his agents who nodded. "I'll be with the van too, but that's all. The rest of you will be spread out around the area. Remember, we're not expecting the exchange to take place at the Garden Park. The HBM will be calling us with instructions, so I want a separate team ready to move quickly when we have a location."

He started pointing to people and assigning them roles and places all over the park and the surrounding buildings. One would be a jogger, one would be a traffic police, one would pose as a hot dog vendor and so on. Snipers would cover all roof tops and SWAT would be ready to swarm the park at a moment's notice.

"There's heavy traffic around this corner so if their plan is to cruise by and check us out we might have a hard time spotting them," Dobson finished.

Reid suddenly realized that everyone had been given an assignment except for him and Hotchner. "What about us?" he asked.

"Only one of you can go, Doc," Dobson said, loudly chewing his nicotine gum. "Keeping you apart, remember."

Reid and Hotchner looked at each other. It was no question about who would go.

"That's what I thought," Dobson said. "Okay Hotchner, you, Marcus and Miller will be posted in this apartment here." Dobson circled a third-story window on a building across from the park with a red marker and wrote their names next to it. "You are surveillance only and you will be covering this area here." He indicated the north-bound road. "You are not to leave that room until it's time to go back to Quantico or I call you down. Understood?"

Hotchner nodded reluctantly.

"Okay, best case scenario," Dobson said. "Is if the terrorists bring the hostages to the rendezvous point or somewhere close where we can spot them and free them. Second best, we spot the terrorists and follow them back to where they're keeping the hostages. So keep your eyes open, all of you, and be ready to move at the drop of a hat. This might be our one chance."

More details were discussed, and Reid was getting antsy. If he'd been the kidnappers he would've kept the park under surveillance for a while before the exchange would take place, possibly ever since the ransom note was sent. He felt like they were cutting it a little too close for comfort. Apparently Dobson shared his apprehension, for he soon called the briefing to an end and told everyone to meet in the garage in a few minutes.

"Good luck," Reid said to Hotchner.

"I'll call you as soon as I know anything," Hotchner promised solemnly. Reid smiled bleakly at him.

"Be careful," Garcia added.

* * *

As all the agents crowded in front of the elevators, waiting for their ride down to the garage, they met Henry coming off. He and Hotchner nodded curtly at each other as they passed. Reid and Garcia were still in the bullpen, quietly talking to each other, while Lee and Jensen sat a few desks away in order to give them some privacy.

"Hey kitten," Henry smiled as he suddenly stood in front of them.

They both looked up. "Henry!" Garcia's face brightened as he pulled her up from the chair and into his arms, holding her tight.

"How're you doing?" he asked quietly. Her only answer was to tighten her hold on him and bury her face in his neck. "That bad, huh? Are you getting any closer? Do you think you'll find them soon?"

Garcia pulled back. "I can't talk about the case, you know that."

"Oh. Of course, I didn't mean it like that." Henry looked uncomfortable as he let his eyes wander aimlessly around the room, careful to not linger too long on the schematics for the plan. "Well, it looks like you have something going on anyway… Anyway, I brought food." He held out the large paper bag he'd been carrying.

"Yeah? What is it?" Garcia took the bag and opened it, seeing quite a few aluminum foil containers.

"Leftovers, from the conference I organized today. We had great caterers for lunch," Henry said, pointing to the top container. "That one's my favorite."

"Oh right, the conference," Garcia said, mentally berating herself. Since the kidnappings had begun she hadn't been a very attentive girlfriend. "How is it going?"

"It's going great," Henry said with a huge smile. "Everything's going so smoothly, just as planned. The management is really impressed."

"So…" Garcia fished for information. "The promotion?"

"As good as mine," Henry looked exceedingly pleased with himself. "They can't say no now. Like I said, my boss is really pleased with me right now. As soon as that factory is up and running, it's going to be mine. I just need this big project I'm working on to be successful."

"I'm sure it will be. Congratulations, honey." Garcia hugged him again and then looked at Reid meaningly.

"Yeah, congratulations," he said slightly bewildered. "Sorry, what is it you do again?"

"Thanks man," Henry grinned. "I work for the Danwal Cooperation, you know it?"

Reid shook his head.

"Well, the company is expanding their operations in Virginia and I'm up for the CEO position of a new branch office and factory they're opening. Anyway, I have to get back, the afternoon session will start in a half-hour. Penny? Is there… is there any way you could sneak away with me for a few minutes?"

"I- uh…" She looked at Reid.

"Go," he said, "It'll be awhile before we hear anything."

Garcia smiled at him and mouthed 'thank you' before turning to Henry. "I'll walk you to your car."

"See you, Reid," Henry said. "And enjoy the food."

Henry gave Garcia one last kiss before sending her on her way. "I'll be back to pick you up tonight."

"See you then," she smiled.

He waited by the car, smiling, until she'd turned around and waved one last time. Then he got into his car and pulled out his cell phone. He hit speed dial and waited impatiently for the person on the other side to pick up.

"'lo?"

"I know where he's going to be."

* * *

Hotchner stood at the window at his assigned lookout point and let his binoculars sweep the area around the van, again and again. Even though the van's back door was only partially open, he could clearly see the orange jumpsuits in the back seat. Maybe they were so obvious to him because he knew they were there, but he hoped they would be obvious to the terrorists as well.

Maybe dressing the two agents in prison jumpsuits was overkill and cliché, but Dobson and Witchell hoped that it would fool whoever was coming for them into not looking so closely at the prisoners' faces until they got close enough to be detected by the FBI agents. Sometimes people really did only see what they wanted to see.

Hotchner raised the binoculars to his eyes again and scanned the cars driving up and down the north-bound road, hoping to spot a familiar face behind a steering wheel. He somehow felt that he should know whoever it was that was snatching his team. But he couldn't really see the drivers from up here. He knew there was someone on the ground filming the traffic so that someone else could go through it later, matching license plate number to driver and pull backgrounds. Maybe a job for Garcia, he thought. He knew she'd been feeling left out lately. Yeah, he'd ask Dobson to let Garcia handle it. After all, with a case like this it was only natural for her to want to be involved, even if it was just routine jobs. He knew from experience that a lot of the times it felt better to keep busy in a situation like this.

A sudden sound behind him caught his attention. It was the sound of the supposedly locked door opening. He quickly turned around…

* * *

TBC…


	9. Chapter 9

Agents Roscow and Linner sat in the back of the van, manacles loosely fastened around their wrists and ankles. Their orange jumpsuits shone brightly through the crack where the door to the back had been slid open. The driver, Mike, sat uncomfortably with his hands clenching the steering wheel at ten and two. He didn't like all the dead angles he was forced to endure from his position. Dobson was pacing in front of the van's grill, the disposable cell phone clutched in his hand. He looked at his watch and dug in his pocket for a pack of nicotine gum. The terrorists had overshot their own deadline by ten minutes. Where were they? Why hadn't they called?

He looked around the park. Many of the people walking dogs or eating ice cream on the park benches were agents in civilian clothes, but not all of them. Neither were the cars that drove past him. The situation made him nervous. Too many things could go wrong. People could get hurt.

His eyes swept the park again and its surrounding buildings. He knew which windows hid his teams, though nothing from the outside distinguished them. His radio was quiet. No one had spotted anything or anyone. His eyes landed on Hotchner's hiding place and he squinted. With the sun reflecting in the glass it was hard to tell, but he thought he saw… mist? Smoke? What was that? He raised the radio to his lips.

"Unit four, report please."

Chewing his lip he waited, but there was no answer. He tried again.

"Unit four, respond."

Mike turned in his seat and looked towards the window in question before exchanging glances with the mock prisoners in the back. Dobson spoke into his radio.

"Units three and six, check on unit four's position. Use extreme caution." A lump of dread was beginning to form in his gut. Without losing focus of his surroundings he kept his eyes turned to the room that should hold agents Hotchner, Marcus and Miller. Within minutes he had his answer.

"We need paramedics up here," someone shouted over the radio. "Miller and Marcus have been shot."

Quickly checking the street for oncoming traffic, Dobson crossed the street at a fast pace, banged open the building's door and barreled up the stairs to the third floor, three steps at the time. He heard coughing on the third-floor landing and carefully poked his head through the door into the hallway. What he saw was his agents pulling Miller and Marcus out of the apartment, smoke trailing them, evaporating in the spacious hallway. Most of the agents held their hands or pieces of cloth across their mouths. Then he was pushed out of the way by the paramedics they had kept on standby.

Agent Swartling, who was squatting by Miller's side, was also asked to give room for the paramedics. Standing up she saw her boss and walked towards him.

"Tear gas, sir," she said, hiding a cough in her hand. "But it's dissipating quickly now that we've opened the door and the windows. Miller has taken a slug to the shoulder, it doesn't look too bad. Marcus was shot in the gut… I don't know…"

"And Hotchner?" Dobson asked.

Swartling shook her head. "Missing."

"God dammit." He absentmindedly scratched his nose as he tried to come up with a new plan. "All right, take units two and three and search the outside. How long ago do you think they were here?"

Swartling shrugged. "No more than a couple of minutes."

"Okay, go. And check if there are any cameras around that might have captured them on tape. Traffic cameras, ATMs, store surveillance, anything you can think of."

"Got it." Swartling jogged down the stairs, calling the designated units over the radio.

Dobson went over to his injured men. Miller was conscious and fighting his paramedic, trying to get a good look at his partner. Dobson knelt beside him and put a hand on the blond head to force him back down.

"Sir," Miller panted as he clawed his oxygen mask off, deaf to the paramedic's protests, tears streaming from his red and swollen eyes. "Sir, how's Marcus?"

Dobson looked over at his other agent, lying unconscious and bleeding on the floor. The paramedic working on him looked up and shrugged, not willing to commit to any kind of diagnosis just yet. Dobson turned back to Miller.

"Just worry about yourself for now," he said evasively. "What happened?"

"The door opened," Miller said between coughs. There was a small cut on his lower lip as if he'd bitten himself. "And a canister rolled in, gas already leaking from it and then it exploded. It all happened so fast, sir, we didn't even have time to pull our weapons. There were three of them, with gasmasks. They had guns with silencers. They shot Marcus first. I drew my gun, but took a slug to the shoulder before I could fire it. I fell to the floor, there was smoke everywhere. I saw them overpower Agent Hotchner, then I don't remember anything…"

The last part of the sentence was drowned out in gut wrenching coughs and Dobson gently maneuvered the oxygen mask in place again as another group of paramedics entered the hallway with a second stretcher. He called for another agent to accompany the fallen men to the hospital and to contact him regularly with updates.

Dobson then entered the apartment that was now sufficiently aired out, even if a sting to the air still remained and hitched in the breath of the agents surveying the room.

Captain Witchell stood over by the window, looking at some overturned equipment. He looked up as the other agent entered. "They must have called our bluff. But how did they know where to find him? We only finalized this plan two hours ago," he said bewildered.

Dobson's lips thinned dangerously as he drew the only possible conclusion. "It was a trap. They've got someone on the inside."

* * *

Tension was running high in the basement. JJ was running a fever and slept fitfully, mumbling incoherently in her sleep. The others tried to wake her up every now and then, but it proved more and more difficult each time.

The fever had started yesterday and had made for a sleepless night for the rest of them as they worried about what an untreated concussion toppled with an untreated infection might do to her. Last night, as Henry had performed his nightly visit, Morgan had gone so far as to beg for help. That had resulted in a few sterile wipes, some actual bandages and two Tylenols. Not nearly enough, but still better than nothing.

Now it was late afternoon. Prentiss sat on the floor by JJ's cot, dozing lightly with one arm pressed up against JJ and her head resting on the arm, while Morgan paced the floor, his chain rattling with every step. Gideon was behind the screen trying to wash his sweater, his t-shirt and himself in the sink to get as much of the dried blood out as possible. His plan was to offer his sweater, once it had dried, to JJ so she could get rid of her blood soaked blouse. With nothing but toilet paper or his own clothes to dry with, Gideon's chest was still damp as he hung the wrung-out sweater over the screen to dry and limped heavily into the main area of the room again. He had a seatbelt shaped bruise across his chest and abdomen, JJ had a matching one, and also a deep contusion over his ribs on the right side.

"Calm down please, Morgan," he requested.

Morgan glared at him. "Why? Face it, there's nothing we can do. We're stuck here."

"There's always something we can do," Gideon said, lying down on the free cot and putting his leg up on the pile of blankets he'd been using to elevate his swollen knee. He sighed contented. It felt good to be off his feet again. "We do what we always do. We build a profile."

Prentiss cracked open an eye. "Sure, no problem," she said with a sarcastic tint. "Let's start with victimology: Us. But why? What have we ever done to Garcia's boyfriend? If this is revenge for something, it would be nice to know what it is."

"No," Morgan said, "This isn't an act of revenge."

"Why not?" Prentiss asked.

"Because if it were," Gideon answered, "Then Henry would've probably killed Morgan before kidnapping you and you before kidnapping us. He would enjoy sending photos or videos of him tormenting us to those still free, to instill fear, to show what we could expect when it was our turn. Had it been revenge he would've been present here with us, torturing us, forcing us to watch each other suffer. Revenge is always messy and always personal."

"He wouldn't have given us medical supplies for JJ either," Morgan said. "There's another agenda here, he's got something planned for the future."

"I know," Prentiss said. "But why didn't they just grab all six of us when we were all together?" she asked, sounding as if she was just thinking out loud. "Why this outdrawn procedure... why draw it out and give us all the warnings we need. It just makes it more and more difficult for them each time."

"Logistics." Morgan suggested. "It takes a lot of people to take down six agents and there are only four of them. Henry probably wants to keep this tight, the less people that know about it, the better."

"It's also part of the game," Gideon said. "This whole show has been put on for our benefit. To catch us is just that, a prey caught. But to outwit us, make us fail, show us how weak and helpless we are; that's part of his game. And we are meant to be impressed by this. We are meant to be impressed by the level and sophistication of his plans. It's to show us that he's not some two-bit kidnapper, he's our equal, or even superior as he has no problems getting to all of us."

"Yeah, but how did they plan the other things," Prentiss asked. "Like, how did they know when you we're going to the prison to interview Nelson and Marquez?"

"An expected reaction to the ransom note," Gideon said.

"They're getting bolder and more violent with every abduction," she commented.

"That's not really so strange," Morgan said. "In the beginning they relied on stealth. We didn't know they were coming for us, and that was the way they liked it. But now that we know they're after us, there's no need for stealth. Also as we become more aware, we become more suspicious and careful and it becomes more difficult to overpower us."

"We still don't have a motive," Prentiss pointed out.

"He's collecting us," Gideon said. "I don't know why, but we're all still alive. That means that if he wants to kill us, he probably won't do it until he's got all of us or has lost the hope of getting all of us."

"Then it's all up to Hotch and Reid," Prentiss said slowly.

Just then the door opened and Hotchner was forcefully pushed into the room, bound and blindfolded like the rest of them had been, an armed henchman keeping the others immobile.

Once Hotchner's shackle had been secured around his ankle, he was put on the floor and had his picture taken. As soon as he'd been freed from the duct tape and blindfold and his captors had left the room, Hotchner turned to his team. "Is everyone okay?" he asked, cataloging the various cuts and bruises showing on their bodies.

"Yeah, we're good," Morgan said. "You?"

Hotchner touched his sore nose, brushing away some flakes of dried blood and then moved his hand up to his red and puffy eyes. "I'm fine," he said. "I can't believe I let them get the drop on me."

"Well, you're in good company," Morgan said wryly. "What happened?"

Hotchner sighed and rubbed his eyes again. "We got instructions for a hostage exchange, the four of you for the two of them. We were supposed to take them to the Garden Park and get further instructions there over the phone. Marcus, Miller and I were in an empty third-floor apartment, keeping watch over the north-bound road. A minute after the deadline our door was opened. It was supposed to be locked, but I don't know, maybe it wasn't. I went for my gun, we all did, but they'd thrown in tear gas canisters. The room filled up fast, I could barely keep my eyes open. I hardly heard the shots, they had silencers, but I saw Marcus go down, then Miller. Then someone punched me in the nose and I blanked out for a moment. When I came to they were dragging me down the back stairs. They stuffed me in the back of a car, tied me up and blindfolded me."

"So it was a trap," Prentiss said.

"Looks that way," Hotchner agreed.

Prentiss frowned. "Don't they want their people back? What would they have done if you'd really brought the prisoners?"

"I don't think they're stupid enough to believe we'll free Nelson and Marquez that easily," Hotchner said. "They probably never expected that they would be there."

"This is getting ridiculous," Morgan said. "They're just picking us off one by one without even breaking a sweat, and we can't even figure out why."

Hotchner's eyes turned to JJ, who was moving restlessly on one of the cots. "Is she…?"

"Sleeping," Morgan said somberly. He sat down on the place on the floor Prentiss had just vacated and put a hand on JJ's forehead to calm her. "She does that a lot."

"Here." Prentiss handed Hotchner a leftover piece of the chemise that she'd wet under the faucet and Hotchner gratefully put it over his still stinging eyes.

"What have you learned so far?" he asked, his head tilted back to keep the piece of cloth in place.

"That Prentiss gets cranky without her coffee," Morgan joked.

Prentiss made a face at him and then proceeded to fill Hotchner in on everything they'd seen, heard and theorized so far.

"Henry Caswell? Garcia's boyfriend?" Hotchner said, letting the wet cloth slip off and looking at them. "I met him getting off the elevator on the way to the hostage exchange. He would've seen the plans in the bullpen. No wonder it was so easy for them to grab me, he had all the information. Has he said anything to you about what this is about?"

"We hardly ever see him," Morgan said. "He only comes down sometimes in the evenings. I suppose he has to keep up appearances with his day job."

"And he's been picking Garcia up from work every night," Hotchner added. Morgan's face turned grim at that thought.

"What's happening on the outside?" Gideon asked.

"The investigation has been turned over to anti-terrorism," Hotchner told them. "Simon Dobson is in charge."

"Dobson? No, not him," Morgan complained.

"What?" Prentiss asked. "What's wrong with Dobson?"

"He's an egotistical, career hungry, narcissistic know it all," Morgan fumed. "And, oh yeah, he doesn't believe in the psychological mumbo jumbo we do. Hotch, how could you let him get involved in the investigation? And what about now? You and Gideon can hardly get him to listen, how's Reid gonna have a chance to stand up to him?"

"I didn't let him do anything," Hotchner said, "He was forced on us by Director Strauss. But at least Reid isn't alone."

"Is Reid…" Prentiss began and then stopped. She looked down at her hands as she tried to find the right words for what she wanted to know. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but since the kidnappers managed to get all of us with relative ease, what chances does Reid have of avoiding them?"

Gideon gave her a skewed smile. "Don't underestimate Reid, Emily."

"Or Dobson," Morgan said. "He's not going to let him out of his sight. If I know him, he's taking this very personally and is probably furious with himself for letting them walk away with Hotch right under his nose. He'll lock Reid up in a broom closet if he thinks it'll keep him safe."

"If you don't mind, I think I'm gonna worry anyway," Prentiss said, throwing a look at JJ.

"We all do," Gideon said.

* * *

TBC…


	10. Chapter 10

Reid still sat at his desk, he hadn't moved since Hotchner and the others had left. He was resting his forehead in his hand, his eyes staring unseeingly at his cell phone lying on the desk in front of him. He was unconsciously tapping a pen against his lips as he willed the phone to ring. Garcia was sitting next to him, her feet propped up on another desk chair. She had come back from her meeting with Henry with rosy cheeks and glittering eyes. Now she was busy playing solitaire on her laptop, her thoughts miles away.

Dobson had entered the bullpen without either of them noticing, dismissing his team at the elevators. Now he carefully walked up to Reid's desk. "Dr. Reid?" he said politely.

Garcia looked up from her game, alarmed. She had never heard Dobson call Reid anything but 'Doc' before. But Reid, lost in his own thoughts, didn't move until Garcia tapped him on the shoulder.

"Huh? What?" Reid jerked and looked up, puzzled. Then he saw the grim look on Dobson's face and paled. "Hotch?" he asked, fear coloring his voice.

"I'm afraid so," Dobson confirmed solemnly.

"Is he…" Reid trailed off, not quite knowing what he wanted to ask first.

"He was kidnapped," Dobson said, his face unreadable. "But there was nothing that suggested that he was injured in any way."

"How could- I mean, what happened?" Reid asked shocked. "He had bodyguards; he was supposed to be protected. You were supposed to protect him."

"Yeah," Dobson defended himself, "I did. But somehow the terrorists knew where Hotchner was going to be. They used tear gas and overpowered my men. Marcus and Miller are in the hospital, they've both been shot."

Garcia gasped and put her hand over her mouth. "Are they okay?"

"Marcus is in serious condition, but Miller's going to be fine," Dobson answered, spitting out a piece of gum and dropping it in the trash can next to Reid's desk.

"I don't understand," Garcia said bewildered. "Why would the kidnappers do such a thing? I thought they were coming for a hostage exchange, not another kidnapping."

"Well, either they called our bluff and decided to make the best of the situation," Dobson answered. "Or they had set it up as a trap to be able to kidnap Hotchner or it was a test run to check out how we would react and what kind of manpower they would have against them."

"And Hotch has just disappeared without a trace?" Reid asked, hoping that the kidnappers had messed up and left them something worthwhile.

"I still have people out looking," Dobson said, putting a new piece of gum in his mouth, "But so far there is no sign of Hotchner anywhere in the vicinity and we haven't been able to pick up the trace. And that just leaves you, Doc," he finished pointedly.

"Reid," Garcia said, suddenly gripping his hand hard in both of hers. "Don't leave, okay? They're gonna come after you too, I just know it. Don't leave the office; don't go anywhere, just stay here, please."

"Garcia…" Reid pulled at his hand uncomfortably, wanting it back, but she wouldn't let go. "There's work… The others are still missing. I can't just-"

"No, Ms. Garcia's right," Dobson said, once again unusually polite. "You really have to stay here."

"But-" Reid started to protest. He wanted to be proactive, he wanted to be out there, he wanted to look for his team, he wanted to _find_ his team.

"Listen to me, Doc, I'm going to make this very clear." Dobson put his hands on the armrests of Reid's chair and leaned over him, lowering his voice, but still keeping the tone harsh. "I'm in charge. Hotchner is missing. Gideon is missing. You have no one to run to anymore. We're going to do this my way and if you're not prepared to cooperate, then fine, I'll take you off the case."

"You can't," Reid gasped.

"Yes, I can," Dobson said coldly. "But in this case it's entirely up to you. And just to make it clear, on or off this case, and I don't care which, you're _not_ leaving this building and even while you're here, you're not going anywhere without at least two of my men with you."

"But-" Reid tried to protest again.

"No buts, Doc," Dobson said sternly. "No one else is going to disappear on my watch. As of now you're not even allowed to use the men's room unsupervised."

Reid swallowed around the nervous lump in his throat. He had no choice, he desperately wanted to stay on the case. "Okay," he said meekly.

"So we're agreed?" Dobson asked. "No fieldwork, no interviews, no work that you can't do from that chair you're sitting in right now."

Reid nodded mutely.

Satisfied with his compliance, Dobson turned around to leave.

"I have to call Haley," Reid told Garcia, who nodded sympathetically.

But Dobson turned around to face them again. "Already taken care of, Doc. I sent a couple of my guys to her sister's. She was informed an hour ago."

"What?" Reid looked surprised. "Why?"

Dobson cocked his head and studied Reid for a moment. "You still don't get it, do you Doc?" he said condescendingly. "I'm in charge. I'm the SAC. Notifying next of kin is my responsibility. Because I'm in charge. And the sooner you realize that, the better we'll get along."

But all Reid could think of was Haley, getting the bad news from complete strangers. In this case Dobson was wrong. It had been Reid's responsibility. As a friend.

* * *

"JJ? Come on, time to wake up. Dinner time! JJ?"

JJ heard Morgan's sing-song voice as from afar, and even though her body protested vehemently, she followed the voice into consciousness. It wasn't a pleasant experience, it never was. She felt hot and uncomfortable and her head felt ready to split in two every time she opened her eyes. And yet, every time they called her, she answered.

She cracked open her eyes to see a double exposure of Morgan's face floating in front of her. Quickly she squeezed her eyes together again before the sight could make her nauseous. When she opened them again, there was only one Morgan smiling down at her.

"Welcome back, stranger. How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine," she tried to say, but the sounds that came out of her mouth didn't really resemble words.

"Okay," Morgan said, winking at her. "Do you think you can eat something? We've got a nice selection of hamburgers or hamburgers. Which do you prefer?"

She appreciated his efforts to keep things light, she really did, but at the same moment as he started talking about hamburgers the greasy smell assaulted her nostrils and she gagged. Large, floating specks of color invaded her sight as she retched miserably. She felt someone's arms around her, lifting her and turning her on her side, steadying her as her body revolted, but she wasn't sure who it was until she could finally breathe again with small, hiccupping breaths and heard Morgan's voice chanting, "It's okay, it's okay," above her painfully throbbing head.

She felt herself being lowered down onto the cot again, though not all the way. An arm stayed behind her neck and kept her head tilted up. The rim of a paper cup touched her lips and she tried to turn her head.

"Shh, it's only water," Morgan said, pressing the cup more insistently against her lips. "Just a little, then you can go back to sleep again. I promise."

The cold water felt wonderful on her lips and in her mouth. She was hot and parched and a vile taste fermented in her mouth. On the way down her throat, her stomach protested a little against the water, but not enough to expel it. She drank a little more before the cup was removed and her head was put down and she closed her eyes again. She actually felt better, only marginally, but still better.

Morgan had been sitting next to her on the cot. She hadn't really noticed before, not until he got up and took the warmth of his body with him, but she was already floating back towards sleep and didn't protest.

"It's okay, at least she drank the water." It was Prentiss' voice, coming from the other side of the room. "And I think her fever is coming down."

"She should be in a hospital." Morgan sounded much harsher than when he'd been speaking to her.

"We'll just have to do the best we can," Prentiss answered him.

The room fell quiet, all that was heard was the rustle of paper bags being opened and hamburgers being unpacked and it somehow sounded homey. JJ felt herself drift further and further away until Gideon's voice suddenly yanked her back out of the tranquility.

"Penny for your thoughts."

JJ frowned and stirred. He wasn't talking to her, was he?

"It's the pictures."

JJ's frown deepened. That was Hotchner's voice. He wasn't supposed to be here, was he? In her muddled mind she couldn't quite remember why, but she remembered that it was very important that he shouldn't be here.

"What pictures?" Prentiss asked.

"When I first came there, they took my picture, right?" Hotchner asked. "I thought I heard them use a camera while I was lying on the floor."

"That's right," Gideon said.

"Have they taken pictures of all of you too?" Hotchner asked.

The conversation interested JJ and in spite of herself she cracked open one eye and got a blurred, sideways vision of the other four sitting on and around a cot, sharing French fries and slurping sodas. She saw Morgan and Prentiss nod at Hotchner's question.

"I'm just wondering what they are doing with the photos," Hotchner continued. "There haven't been any photos in any of the ransom notes. You would've thought that they would've wanted us to see them."

Morgan frowned. "They haven't sent them to you? I was sure that that was what the pictures were for."

"I wondered about that too," Gideon said. "But if they aren't sent to us, then they are probably sent to someone else."

"You mean that the photos are to prove to someone else that they have us?" Prentiss asked.

Gideon nodded.

"You're talking about the HBM, right?" Morgan said. "That Henry is sending them on to the leader or whoever he reports to."

"That's a fair guess," Hotchner said.

"So is he working for them or is he a part of them?" Morgan wondered.

"Terrorist organizations wouldn't hire someone from the outside for a job like this," Prentiss said. "They always keep things close to the family, so to speak."

"Henry has to be a member then," Hotchner said. "Even if we haven't been able to find him in any of the membership registers. Not that we were looking for him specifically, but his name would've raised a red flag."

"He doesn't really fit the profile for an extremist though." Morgan said. "But then again, he doesn't strike me as a mercenary either. Isn't he upper management at some cell phone company or something?"

"Well," Gideon said. "The photos are either sent to HBM or there's a third party we don't know about."

"What kind of third party?" Prentiss asked.

Despite herself, JJ could feel herself drifting away again. While her mind would've loved to have stayed with this discussion, her body had other ideas, and she was soon asleep and never knew if Gideon had a theory about a third party or not.

* * *

TBC...


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** They showed the episode 'Penelope' here a few days ago, and I finally understood why one reviewer said that Garcia doesn't have much luck with dates. I have got to stop stealing plot-points I don't even know about ;-) Anyway, a few things in that episode contradict some things in my future chapters and some things might seem just a tad rip-offish. I've changed what I can, but I can't change all of it without going back and changing the story from the beginning. It's just minor details really, but go ahead and call the story AU if it makes you feel better.

And a million hugs and kisses to all my wonderful reviewers! Keep up the good work.

* * *

It was late Tuesday afternoon and almost a day had passed since Hotchner's kidnapping when Garcia hurried to catch up with Reid and his bodyguards in a corridor on the BAU floor.

"Reid? Can I talk to you?" Garcia called.

Reid turned around when he heard her coming. "Sure."

"Alone." She looked meaningly at Lee and Jensen, who stood behind Reid. "Do you mind?"

"Sorry, miss," Lee said politely. "But Dr. Reid isn't going anywhere without us."

"Oh come on," Garcia said, but relented immediately. "Okay, fine." She looked around and went to open the closest door, which happened to be the copy room.

"See?" she said, making an encompassing gesture into the room. "No baddies hiding behind the extra toner. Okay?" She grabbed Reid by the arm and dragged him into the copy room, closing the door behind them, leaning against it for emphasis.

The smell of slightly burnt paper met Reid as he leaned against the copy machine and looked questioningly at Garcia.

"Reid, we have to do something," she started.

"About what?" Reid asked, wondering which of the many screwed up things that had Garcia upset at the moment.

"Is it just me, or are they shutting us out?" Garcia said, looking over her shoulder at the closed door.

Reid sighed. Ever since Dobson had threatened to pull him from the case he'd noticed how conversations stopped when he came into a room, how people came and went without him knowing where or why and how they reported to Dobson behind closed doors. He wasn't part of their team and they didn't trust him. He could understand that, but he didn't have to like it.

"Do you think they're telling us everything they know?" Garcia continued. "'Cause I don't, I think they're hiding things from us. Can they do that? Is it, you know, ethical?"

Reid squeezed his eyes together and rubbed his forehead with a thumb. "Yes, they can," he said. "Dobson has been sanctioned to lead the investigation so it's up to him who he does and doesn't want on his team and who should be privy to what information. It's not a BAU case anymore. It's antiterrorism's."

"But when Hotch-"

"Hotch is a SAC," Reid interrupted her. "He's Dobson's equal, so he deserved more consideration. Because that is what it was from Dobson's side. A courtesy. And since they think it's about terrorism there's a lot of hush hush added to it. They don't want to spread panic."

"But that's not fair," Garcia cried, before something he'd said caught up to her. "What? Wait… they think? You don't think it's about terrorism?"

"I don't know," Reid sighed. "It's all too confusing, too unorganized… I know it's all we've got to work with, but it doesn't make sense. I don't know what to think."

"But you would if you had all the information, wouldn't you?" Garcia said triumphantly, coming back to her original point. "They shouldn't be keeping things from us. Especially not you."

"Dobson's probably just worried that I won't be able to stay objective," Reid said, a little unsure of why he was defending the other man. "That I'll make emotionally based decisions and that I'll get too careless. You can't really fault him for that, because honestly? I'm not so sure I could stay objective right now. Everything is pointing to me being kidnapped next and I for one would be very happy if that can be avoided. I hate that Dobson's keeping me out of the loop, but I'm willing to go along with anything that'll help us get the others back. And as for you… well, Landon Jones is good, isn't he?"

"He's exceptional," Garcia admitted grouchily.

"And Dobson is used to working with him, so can you blame him for wanting to use him instead of you? We would choose you over any local computer analyst, so why wouldn't he do the same? And you have other things to do, right? Other cases for other teams?"

"Yeah, but it's not about that," Garcia said impatiently. "I just want to know what they know. And you know I can find out, right? I still say we deserve to know. What do you think we should do? Do you want me to hack their computers, tap their phones…?"

Reid laughed. "That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"I can do it, you know," she challenged him. "I can have all the information we want in just a couple of minutes."

Reid grimaced. It was tempting, very tempting. Being blacklisted was frustrating, not knowing was excruciating, but there were boundaries and he had to keep them.

"No, we can't," he said. "It's not right. We'll just have to trust them to tell us what we need to know."

Garcia looked ready to protest, but cut herself off. "Okay. But I don't like it."

"Neither do I," Reid confessed.

Garcia opened the door and they stepped out into the corridor again. Reid thought Lee and Jensen looked a little amused, but shrugged it off.

"We were going for a bite to eat," Reid said to Garcia. "In the cafeteria downstairs. Do you want to come?"

"No," she said, looking at his bodyguards with unfriendly eyes. "I've got work to do." She marched into her office and slammed the door shut behind her.

Reid winced at the dramatic gesture, but didn't say anything. He followed Lee and Jensen to the elevators. He wasn't really that hungry anymore.

* * *

The room felt crowded now, with the five of them in there. It was difficult to move around, because the space was limited and the chains kept tangling up in each other. Prentiss was reminded of playing jump rope as a child, although at times it was more like Twister when they had to climb over and under each other to untangle the knots on the chains.

A third cot had been put in the room, crowding it even further. JJ had, with all of their blessings, laid permanent claim to one of the cots. Even though her fever was going down she was lethargic and kept drifting in and out of sleep and when she was awake she complained of headaches and barely touched food or water. That meant that the rest of them had to share the other two cots. They took turns sleeping throughout the day. Most of the time they were just used as couches, but more often than not someone had to sit on the floor.

The chill Morgan had experienced his first few days here was gone now. Instead the room was getting uncomfortably hot and stuffy. The substandard ventilation was a poor substitute for fresh air. They were all in dire need of a shower and clean clothes, and Morgan wouldn't mind a shave either. The room smelled sour of unwashed people and the air was stale. The bags, wraps and containers of the numerous portions of hamburgers and fries they had eaten were shoved underneath the cots and spread the greasy smell of a fast-food restaurant garbage can. Privacy was non-existingand it was taking its toll on all of them as tempers ran short.

The tension was especially clear in Morgan, who had had to sit and helplessly and watch his team being taken through that hateful door one by one. It was becoming harder and harder for him not to punch whoever brought their food in the nose. But they always came armed and not even in this outraged state would Morgan put his companions at risk of being shot.

But most of all, he couldn't stand the sight of Henry Caswell. Not that Henry showed his face all that often.

Garcia was on his mind a lot too. He found himself going back to her over and over again, wondering how she was, whether or not Henry had hurt her. Or what else he might have done to her.

Had Henry broken it off with her yet, now that he had captured them? No, probably not, that would be suspicious. So what did he do? Continue like nothing had happened? Kept making dates? Take her home at night and hold her when she worried about them? That was the thought that really made Morgan gnash his teeth. The thought of Garcia turning to Henry for comfort for a crime Henry had committed.

And he dreaded the day Garcia found out the truth about Henry Caswell. Garcia wasn't as hardened as the rest of them, she still allowed a lot of emotions to surface when she viewed crime scene photos and heard the victims' stories. And when she found out that she had been an accomplice in their kidnappings, even though it was unwilling and unknowing, she would be guilt stricken. Morgan just hoped that Henry would be done with Garcia now that he'd gotten what he came for and that he wouldn't put her through anything else. No more surprises, please. If he had even a smidge of decency he would. But Morgan seriously doubted Henry's sense of decency.

If only he could get out of here so he could be there for Garcia when the house of cards came down and Henry showed his real face. He trusted Reid with a lot, his life even, but as emotional support to a heartbroken woman… Reid would try, of course, but this wasn't something you could learn from a book. Morgan just wanted to be there. And he wanted to beat the living daylight out of Henry Caswell.

* * *

Henry showed up at the office late that night. Garcia and Reid were in the bullpen by Reid's desk, not really doing anything, just waiting for something, anything, to happen. Henry snuck up from behind, put his arms around Garcia and kissed her on top of her head.

"Hi kitten," he purred, nuzzling her neck.

"What are you doing here?" Garcia asked surprised, leaning into him.

"It's late, honey. I've come to take you home."

"No, I can't possibly go," Garcia protested. "Hotch is missing too now. There's too much to do." Last night she'd worked through the night, so she hadn't seen Henry since he brought by the food yesterday afternoon.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but you don't look very busy," Henry pointed out.

"Dobson brought his own computer expert." Garcia's face flushed red in embarrassment. "He trusts him more than me, that's all. And Jones is good. I just- I mean, if they need some extra help or something."

"If they need you they can call," he said, pulling at her arm to get her to stand up and follow him. "You need a good night's sleep. I'm taking you home and putting you to bed."

"Since when have you putting me to bed been synonymous with a good nights sleep?" Garcia asked flirtatiously.

"Tonight it will be," Henry said, not taking the bait. "You looked tired yesterday, but that's nothing compared to today."

"I think it's a good idea," Reid interjected. "Believe me, I would if I could. Since Dobson doesn't actually let us do anything..." That wasn't completely true. Reid didn't want to leave, he wanted to be there if something happened, but he agreed with Henry that Garcia deserved her rest and where was a better place to get it than in the arms of someone who loved you?

"Too bad they won't let you," Garcia said sympathetically, nodding towards his security detail that was playing cards two desks away. Jensen had gone home to her husband and daughter when her shift was over, but Lee had gotten roped into a card game with the relief that he refused to abandon until he'd won back his losses, which, according to the ever decreasing pile of matches they were using as markers, could take awhile. Reid looked at them and sighed inwardly. The luring call of his own bed would have to wait.

"Yes, too bad, shame on us," Lee called heartily, having been listening in on their conversation. "But you're not going anywhere. We can tuck you in on the couch in Agent Gideon's room if you're tired."

Quantico was a big facility and it wouldn't have been difficult to find some proper quarters for Reid to spend the night in, as he had done with his team on the nights before. But ever since Reid had become the last man standing, he had had an anxiousness in his body that he couldn't shake and as a result he'd been reluctant to leave the center of events, so he had spent last night in Gideon's office. He wanted to be there if something happened. He wanted to be the first to know. Especially since they hadn't heard anything from the kidnappers since before Hotchner disappeared. And his body guards were happy to have him there, especially in a room with only one way in or out.

"Fine. But wake me up if something happens, okay? If they call or something…"

"Will do," Lee promised.

Reid rubbed his forehead. He had a headache. "You can go, though. I think you should," he said to Garcia.

"I'll get my things then." Garcia and Henry disappeared towards her office. A minute later Garcia came back into the bullpen. "I forgot my cell phone." She picked it up, but then she stopped, cocked her head and frowned as she looked at him. "You _are _going to get some sleep aren't you?"

Reid smiled at her and nodded. Smiling back she bent down and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. "Good. Good night, I'll see you tomorrow." And then she was off again. Not long after, Reid saw her and Henry heading for the elevators.

Reid opened his bottom desk drawer, rooting through it. Hadn't he left some aspirin in here? When he finally found the pills, it was in the top drawer and several minutes had passed. He debated how many pills he could safely take and then downed them with cold coffee. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and held them there a moment before he rubbed his eyes and looked up. For a moment black spots danced in front of his eyes before he shook his head and refocused his sight. God, he was tired.

"I'm going to try and get some sleep," he announced to his bodyguards. He put his cell phone and cell phone charger in his pockets, stood up and shuffled towards the stairs.

"Good night. The tuck in offer still stands," Lee teased. He leaned back on the chair, far enough for the chair legs to leave the floor as he twisted his neck to talk to Reid.

Reid valiantly tried to glare at Lee, but he was too tired and the muscles in his face didn't quite obey him. It ended up as a squint before he simply gave up. "Thanks," he said. "But I think I'll manage on my own."

The lights were still on in the round table room, he noticed. Dobson appeared to be burning the midnight oil. He could see shadows moving around behind the drawn blinds.

Gideon's door was unlocked. Reid turned on the lights and stepped through the doorway warily. He had been in here without Gideon before, although not often, and he knew Gideon wouldn't mind him borrowing it now, but somehow the room seemed so empty without him here. It was silent, reverent, waiting for its rightful owner to come back and possess it again.

He closed the blinds and looked around. There actually wasn't a couch in Gideon's room, though Lee hadn't known that. At least during the nights they gave him his privacy. There was one in Hotchner's office but Reid didn't feel as comfortable in there as he did in here. All that black leather felt cold and impersonal. Gideon's office with the worn, brown leather chairs felt warm and lived in. The large, red armchair in the corner was soft enough to spend a night in which he knew from last nights experience, at least if you pulled up another chair to prop up your feet on.

Reid plugged the charger into his cell phone and then put it on Gideon's desk and looked for an outlet for the charger. Gideon's reading glasses lay on the desk, next to an open text book. It looked like he'd be right back. Reid had to bite his lip as a sudden surge of anger welled up in him. This wasn't fair.

Reid ended up standing in front of Gideon's photos. All those people who had been saved. All those people who were alive because of the BAU's work. His mind suddenly fluttered to all the victims that would need them in the future. All the photos that deserved a place here. 'I hope you're okay, guys,' Reid thought, 'Cause I don't want to do this without you.'

* * *

TBC…


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Teensy tiny spoiler for "Fisher King"

* * *

It was Wednesday morning and Prentiss was staring morosely at her breakfast French fries. "I dreamt of carrot sticks last night," she said. "Carrot sticks and apples." She was sitting on the floor with her back to wall and her head tipped back as she regarded the single French fry she had clasped between her thumb and index finger.

"You're twisted," Morgan told her from the cot where he sat with JJ's feet in his lap. Hotchner and Gideon sat on the other cots.

"Am not," Prentiss defended herself. "I just can't wait to eat something that crunches when you chew it. Aren't you sick of this food?"

"Sure, but I don't dream of vegetables."

Hotchner rubbed his temples as he listened to the two of them. Prentiss and Morgan were driving him to the brink. Gideon was as always a pillar of patience and JJ was subdued by her injury and slept a lot. He himself was also well practiced in the art of waiting. But Morgan and Prentiss' sense of patience was of a more selective kind. They were both action people, problem solvers. They preferred to meet their problems and challenges head on. Sitting idly by, not being able to help themselves was grating on their nerves, which made them bicker excessively.

Things would've been different if they had been in a different sort of danger. If they'd been tied up, beaten or tortured, either for information or for sport. Then there would've been something for them to focus on, somewhere to direct their anger, something to act as an outlet for their energy.

As things were now, they still had a certain amount of freedom, three meals a day and running water. Now they were just waiting. Waiting for the next step, and that was what sat so wrong with Morgan and Prentiss. That was why they bickered so much. But just because Hotchner understood this didn't mean he had the patience to listen to it any longer.

"There's lettuce on the burger," Morgan offered.

"Yeah, it's not exactly crisp though, is it?" Prentiss said sarcastically.

Hotchner exploded. "Enough already!"

Prentiss and Morgan quieted and looked surprised at him. "Enough already," he said again, but softer.

Suddenly there was giggle from JJ. She had curled up in a fetal position on the cot, with one hand crammed under the pillow and the other one wedged between her knees and now she was giggling and moved her hand up to press against her head as she couldn't stop giggling even though it hurt.

The others stared surprised at her. They'd barely been able to make contact with her for days and now she was laughing? Slowly Morgan too broke out in a grin that turned into a laugh. Prentiss was next to follow.

"Sorry," she apologized to Hotchner between sniggers. "We're behaving like five year olds."

Hotchner waved her apology away with a smile. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

Shortly after seven thirty Reid stumbled bleary eyed out of Gideon's office, disappointed that there hadn't been any news worth waking him up over during the night. His two man entourage took him to a gym locker room so he could shower, shave and change his clothes. Reid had actually slept pretty well during the night, being exhausted had helped. But a short arm chair and a long body inevitably led to stiffness and sore muscles, so the shower was welcome.

Afterwards they went down to the in-house cafeteria where Reid picked his way through some scrambled eggs and French toast, downing it all with several cups of coffee.

Then they went back up to the bullpen, Reid's hand still curled around a warm coffee cup… and his world was turned upside down yet again.

"Reid!" Garcia sounded utterly distraught. "Reid! Help me!"

She was standing in between two agents who both had a firm grip around her arms. Arms that were cuffed behind her back.

Reid's mouth dropped open and Jensen grabbed the coffee cup out of his hands before he dropped it.

"Wh- what are you doing?" He looked around for Dobson, instinctually knowing that he was somehow responsible for this. Finding him he strode over angrily.

"Dobson, what's going on? What are you doing?"

Dobson didn't quite look at him. "My job. Garcia is an accomplice in the kidnapping of your team."

Reid just gaped for a moment before finding his tongue again. "That's- that's preposterous. Have you lost your mind? Release her, now."

"No Doc, that's not going to happen," Dobson said, waving to the agents to take Garcia away. "We've got plenty of evidence to corroborate our suspicions. Garcia has a hand in this. She's the link we need to get Hotchner and the others back."

"No." Reid shook his head, took a few steps back and turned around, walking purposely towards Garcia. "No, you're wrong," he called over his shoulder. He reached out and took one of Garcia's arms, pulling her away from one of the agents.

"Let her go," he said angrily, but in a second Lee and Jensen were there, taking a hold of him and pulling him away, ignoring his struggles. "No, stop it, let me go, let her go. Dobson, stop this!"

Dobson nodded to the two agents to get Garcia out of there and they started frog marching her towards the elevators again while Reid helplessly watched, trying to pull free from Lee's arm locked around his chest. He wanted to run after her, tell her that he would fix everything, that everything would be all right. But he didn't know if he could fix anything right now, he didn't know if anything would ever be all right again. He just didn't know.

"No, stop it. You're making a mistake. I haven't done anything," Garcia pleaded with her guards. "Reid! Help me! So something! Call Henry!"

Reid continued to struggle against the grip that held him until Dobson stepped in front of him.

"You're really pushing it right now, Doc. Is it too much for me to expect a little cooperation from you? Your entire team has been taken, for god's sake!"

"Yes, I know," Reid shot back hotly. "I just watched you take the last one."

The elevator doors closed, leaving Reid with the vision of Garcia's scared face burned into his mind. The bullpen was utterly silent, the regular staff there was shocked, not knowing what to believe.

As soon as the elevator doors were closed, Lee let go of Reid, who immediately turned his accusing and angry eyes on Dobson. "I want to know what's going on and I want to know now. No more secrets. We're talking about my team here."

"Follow me." Dobson said, heading off towards the round table room. He'd expected this and had set up a special briefing for Reid.

Landon Jones sat by the table with his laptop in front of him when they came in.

"Sit down, Doc," Dobson said as he popped a nicotine gum out of a blister pack.

Reid didn't.

Dobson shrugged, showing that he understood the gesture, but didn't care.

"It seems like your girl's been keeping secrets from you."

Reid swallowed the protest that Garcia wasn't hisgirl to see where Dobson was heading. Instead he said, "Everyone has secrets."

"True," Dobson agreed, "But some are worse than others. And that…" he pointed to the picture of Donnie Nelson hanging on a white board. "That's Garcia's cousin."

Reid could feel the surprise showing on his face and his crossed arms sank down to hang at his sides. "That's… I… What?"

"Flesh and blood relative. Funny how she forgot to tell you that when the first ransom demand came, isn't it? And funny how she's been neglecting to tell you ever since, huh?" Dobson sounded rather spiteful.

Reid shook his head, regaining his composure. "That doesn't prove anything. She can't help who she's related to. And you can't put people in jail just for being related to a terrorist."

"We've got more," Dobson said, looking pleased with himself. "Jones has spent the better part of the night searching Garcia's computers. Go on, Jones, show him what you've found."

Reid looked at Jones, frowning. "What were you doing on her computers?" Even though the BAU did the same to their suspects and victims all the time, he felt like it was an enormous invasion of Garcia's privacy. She _was _her computers in a way Reid couldn't quite understand.

"He was searching them on my orders," Dobson said. "And a good thing it was too."

With an apologetic smile, Jones handed Reid a folder. Reid took it, looking warily at Dobson as he opened it. The content sent him fumbling blindly for a chair and he sat down heavily.

It was photos, blown-up photos of his team and it didn't take a genius to figure out that they had been taken by the kidnappers. Reid spread them out on the table in front of him, his eyes darting from one to the other. Pictures were supposed to say more than a thousand words, but right now they weren't saying the right words. They didn't tell him if his teammates were breathing or not. They didn't tell him where they were. They didn't tell him if they were okay. In fact, they told him the opposite.

JJ looked the worst. Blood covered her pale face and had run down, soaking her pink blouse. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open and he fervently hoped she was just unconscious. She had a grotesque lump on her forehead where clotted blood stuck her hair together in stiff clumps.

Prentiss, Gideon and Hotchner were all blindfolded. Prentiss looked unhurt while Hotchner had dried blood around his nose. Gideon's face was peppered with tiny cuts and scrapes and his jaw was set in a way very familiar to Reid. That meant that he, at least, was alive and awake underneath the blindfold.

Morgan's photo was a little different. He was lying on his stomach, his arms bound behind his back, but without a blindfold. His eyes were closed, his face slack. The skin around the eye that was showing was puffy and discolored and a big, bloody lump protruded from the back of his head, a rivulet of blood trailing down his neck.

Pushing the faces of his teammates aside, Reid tried to look professionally at the pictures. What else could they tell him? Was there any clue as to where the team was being held? They were all lying on a concrete floor. As far as Reid could tell it was the same one. Did that mean that they were all together? He hoped so, that would simplify a potential rescue. The photos were clean of any other identifiable objects, except for JJ's. In one corner above her head a heavy-linked chain trailed across the floor. Reid didn't want to know what that was used for.

On Prentiss' photo, the tip of a scuffed steel toed boot showed, but that didn't give him any clues either, other than convince him that Prentiss was alive too, or had been when the photo was taken. Otherwise there wouldn't have been any reason to hold her down.

"You found these on Garcia's computer?" he asked, slightly dazed.

"Yes," Jones said.

"Could you determine where they were sent from?" Reid asked, a sliver of hope that they could be traced back to an IP address, preferably one belonging to a computer stationed at the hiding place where his team was kept.

Jones shook his head. "They weren't sent from anywhere. They were probably uploaded from an external memory card or portable disc on two different occasions. Morgan and Prentiss' photos last Saturday, and the rest yesterday. They were all in a hidden, password protected, encrypted file together with information about your team."

"What kind of information?" Reid asked flatly.

Jones looked at Dobson who gave him a go-ahead gesture. "Information like addresses, living arrangements, family situation, interests outside work, habits…"

"In other words," Dobson said. "Everything you need to put together a couple of nice little kidnapping plans."

"All in all," Jones said. "The file has been updated about once a week for the last three months. We think that's when they started planning this."

"They who?" Reid asked bewildered.

"Garcia and the HBM," Dobson said. "Face it, Doc. She's been selling you out, and getting good money for it too. She's getting 50 grand for every kidnapping."

"What?" Reid looked quickly up at him. "What money? What are you talking about?"

"We've taken a look at her bank account," Dobson said. "Two hours after Morgan disappeared 50.000 dollars mysteriously appeared on the account. Same thing happened after Prentiss was kidnapped. On Sunday night, another 100.000 and then the day before yesterday, the 50 grand for Hotchner. I'm guessing there's 50.000 dollars earmarked for your kidnapping somewhere too. All this money has been traced back to the HBM's account. That's when we first started suspecting Garcia, when during our investigations of HBM's finances we found that they were depositing money onto her account."

"So do you think she's doing it for the money or out of loyalty for her cousin?" Reid asked cynically. "Garcia's not stupid. She wouldn't accept money that was so easily traceable."

"You can't still believe she's innocent?" Dobson asked incredulously.

"Someone else could've put that information there," Reid said feebly, working more on a gut feeling than any real arguments.

"Who? Who do you know that has access to her computers, Doc?"

Reid kept silent. In truth he knew that there was no one. Garcia was meticulous about computer security, especially since the Sir Kneighf debacle. Everything was protected and no one was allowed near the computers without her present. She always locked the room when she wasn't there.

"That's what I thought," Dobson said.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Reid asked weakly. "How could you not have told me about this?"

"And have you warn her beforehand?" Dobson shook his head. "I don't think so, Doc."

"But, Garcia's worked her since long before Nelson went to prison," Reid tried to argue.

"I'm not saying that she wasn't genuine at a time. But people change." Dobson's demeanor suddenly changed and he sat down opposite Reid. "Listen, Doc," he said sounding almost sympathetic. "I know this is hard for you. It would be for anyone. And I understand your loyalty to Garcia, I really do. It's always a sad thing when one of your own turns dirty. But if you want your team back you need to move beyond that and face the facts."

"But she's always been loyal to us, to the bureau." Reid looked at Dobson, searching for a hint that Dobson didn't want to believe this either, but he didn't find it.

"And yet Lee and Jensen heard her threatening to hack into our computers just yesterday," Dobson said.

Reid's eyes widened. "They- they heard that? But that doesn't mean anything, she was just frustrated, blowing off steam."

"She was plotting to hack into our computers!" Dobson said angrily. "She was going to compromise the computers of federal agents in order to find out information about an ongoing investigation that she was unauthorized for. And you knew and didn't tell me."

But Reid steadfastly shook his head. "There was nothing to tell! It was just a joke. Garcia didn't do this. She didn't ask anyone else to do it either, she would never condone it and she would never, ever kidnap any of her friends. I refuse to believe it. I'll never believe it."

Dobson stood up with such force that he sent his chair clattering on the floor. "Then you are of no more use to me. You're to stay here at the office at all times, but you're no longer a part of this investigation. Please leave this room."

Reid was shocked. "No! No, you can't do that. You have to let me-"

"No. If you don't want to help me find your team, then there's nothing for you here." Dobson grabbed Reid's arm and started pushing him out of the room.

Reid blanched. "Not want to help… But…"

But Dobson had shut him out. He was staring at a closed door.

* * *

TBC…


	13. Chapter 13

Reid was bored. It was a strange sensation, to be bored and almost panic stricken at the same time. He supposed this was what it felt like to be grounded. His mother had rarely been mentally present enough to dole out such punishments, and he had never committed any atrocities worthy of such actions in his youth, so this was the closest he'd ever come.

But he was bored. Not being allowed to do anything while time ticked away and his team was still missing was making him desperate. He contemplated whether he should pull up a solitaire game on his computer or go and try to talk, or rather yell, some sense into Dobson again. Reluctantly he chose the solitaire option. He was more likely to win at that anyway.

"Are you hungry?"

He looked up and saw Jensen standing by his desk, a tangerine and an apple in her hands.

"A little," he admitted and chose the tangerine. Jensen sat down next to him. She was probably bored too, he reflected. Playing body guard to someone who was barely allowed to leave his deckchair was probably about as exciting as watching paint dry. The smell of citrus stung his nostrils as his nails pierced the resistant peel of the tangerine and he wrinkled his nose as a few drops of juice squirted onto his face. He wiped them off with the back of his hand and continued peeling.

"I'm going to visit Garcia this afternoon," he told Jensen, at the very last moment changing it to a statement instead of asking for permission.

Jensen almost laughed at him. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Dobson won't allow it," Jensen said.

"I'm not under arrest," Reid pointed out. "He can't really stop me if I want to go."

"You're still under protective custody," Jensen said, slowly realizing the seriousness of Reid's decision.

"Then I'll waive it," he said. "It's a voluntary precaution, you can't force anyone to stay in protective custody."

"Are your really willing to risk it?" Jensen asked with a frown. "You're safe here, Reid. No one can get to you here."

Reid looked down at his hands. His nails were busy plucking at the white peel residue that clung to the fruit. "I can't just abandon her," he said quietly. "She has to be scared out of her mind. With Morgan and JJ gone she doesn't have anyone else."

"What about her boyfriend?" Jensen asked.

"Henry?" Reid looked thoughtful. "I suppose… I haven't called him yet, I need to- I don't know. And even if she has Henry, she's still part of my team. I don't want her to think that I believe what Dobson's saying. She deserves to know that someone's on her side."

"But the evidence-" Jensen started to protest.

"I know Garcia, okay?" Reid cut her off coldly. "You don't."

Jensen gnawed her lower lip as she studied his resolute face. Then she looked up towards the round table room where Dobson had barricaded himself for the moment. "Okay," she said slowly. "I'll go talk to him. Please don't to run away before I come back."

Reid looked over at Lee who sat at Morgan's desk doing paperwork. "Like I could even if I wanted to," he muttered and plopped a slightly sour segment of tangerine into his mouth.

* * *

The call to Henry was a painful trial for Reid as he had to try and defend both Garcia and Dobson at once to the other man, who sounded confused.

"I still don't get it," Henry said. Reid couldn't blame him. He was in the middle of it, and he didn't understand it either.

"But she's okay, right, she's not hurt, right?" Henry wanted confirmation.

"No, she's- she's fine," Reid answered.

"What about a lawyer, does she need one?"

"She's got a public defender."

"I'll get her someone better," Henry said immediately. "I know some people. I'll get right on it."

"That's good," Reid said. "Listen, I'm going to go see her in an hour or so." He didn't know what Jensen had said to Dobson, but she had come out of the round table room with an affirmative answer and they were due to leave soon. "I don't know if she's allowed outside visitors, but I'll find out for you and get back to you."

"Where is she?" Dobson asked.

Reid told him the name of the women's correctional facility Garcia had been temporarily placed in. "It's about a half hour out of Quantico," he said. "She hasn't been formally charged with anything yet, but Dobson and the prosecutor seems confident that it's only a matter of time before they've built a strong enough case against her."

"This is crazy," Henry said. "Absolutely… Penny would never do something like this, she adores your team, it's all she ever talks about."

"I know," Reid said.

"When you see her, tell her- tell her I love her, okay? And that I'll see her soon."

Reid promised.

* * *

The door to the team's prison slammed open so forcefully that it bounced against the wall and made everyone inside jump.

"Everybody kneel! Hands behind your back." Two henchmen came in, guns in hand.

The team looked at each other, hesitating.

"Now!" one of the henchmen shouted taking a hold of Prentiss' shoulder and pressing down hard until she was kneeling on the floor, keeping his gun pointed at her head.

Not seeing any sense in refusing, the rest followed suit. Hotchner and Morgan both took one of JJ's elbows to help her balance and Prentiss reached up to steady Gideon, whose injured knee wasn't up to the task.

The henchmen started by pulling thick, black hoods over their heads, tying them loosely around their necks. Then they proceeded to tie their hands tightly together with duct tape behind their backs.

"What going on?" Morgan asked, the hood scraping over his bearded cheeks as he spoke. He was surprised when he got an answer from the usually taciturn henchman.

"We're going to pick up the last one of you right now. Then we're moving you immediately, so we're fixing you up now to save time. The boss is eager to meet you."

The closing door signaled that they were alone again and they started to move around a little. JJ stayed on the floor, but changed position so that she was sitting cross legged and leaning against a wall.

"That didn't sound good, huh?" she said.

"No," Prentiss agreed, sitting beside her. "Not good at all. Ow," she complained as someone's chain rapped against her knee. "How about if we don't move around so much when we can't see anything."

"Sorry," Morgan said, feeling his way over to a cot, sitting down. The waiting game had begun anew.

* * *

When Reid stepped into the visiting room he was shocked. The woman on the other side of the table had little, if anything, in common with the Penelope Garcia he knew. The prison uniform was nowhere near anything Garcia would ever consider wearing. She wasn't wearing any make-up or jewellery. The dark-purple frames of her glasses that were usually so becoming on her just looked out of place here. Her hair hung in limp tresses around her face without berets or bows or scrungies in it. There was no pizzazz, no flair, nothing of that little extra that was always present on her person. But worst of all was that there was no spark. In just a few hours she'd turned into a complete stranger.

Her face was pasty gray, her lips colorless. When she lifted her face towards him he saw that her eyes were red rimmed and swollen. "I didn't do it," she whispered.

"I know, Garcia," Reid said, sitting down across from her.

"I wouldn't…" Her eyes filled up again and her lips quivered. "I would never hurt them. They're my friends. I'd never…"

"I know, of course you wouldn't. I'll never believe that you would." Reid reached over and put his hand over hers, patting it a little awkwardly.

She gripped the hand, squeezing it almost painfully. "I wouldn't, Reid. I wouldn't." She looked him in the eyes, pleading for understanding.

"I know, Garcia. I believe you."

"Well, then you're the only one that does," she said bitterly, but calmer and more collected now that she'd found some support. Her grip on his hand loosened. "Dobson," she spit out the name. "He interrogated me for hours, showed me these horrible photos, asked me why I'd betrayed them, where they were hidden, why I'd killed them. You don't think they're dead, do you?"

"Dobson's a jerk," Reid said emphatically.

"But you don't think they're dead?" Garcia asked again, so clearly looking for confirmation that Reid gave it to her, despite his own lingering doubts. He wanted to share her conviction, he really did, but…

"I'm sure they're fine," he said hesitantly. "It's just…"

"Just what?" she asked guardedly.

"It's the evidence they have against you. I don't know how they've gotten their hands on it, but it doesn't look good."

"Evidence? How can they have evidence when I haven't done anything?" Garcia asked shrilly.

"I- I don't know," Reid said uncomfortably. "But it's a lot and I'm not even sure they're letting me see all of it. Dobson's not that fond of me either at the moment. He's taken me off the case, he doesn't trust me. But, Garcia…"

"What?"

"Your cousin? Why didn't you tell us?" That was the one thing he hadn't been able to figure out.

"I didn't know," Garcia said. "Honestly, I didn't. He's a cousin on my father's side."

"And?" Reid couldn't make the connection.

"You know I have my stepfather's last name, right?" Garcia asked.

Reid nodded.

"That's because he's the only father I've ever known," Garcia explained. "My real dad died when I was just a baby, I don't even remember him. And I had almost no contact with his side of the family, except for visiting my grandmother once a year and since she died when I was eleven I haven't heard from any of them. The last time, no actually the only time, I remember ever meeting Donnie was when I was eight or nine. Also, he was the son of my aunt, and she was married. I had my stepfather's last name and he had his father's last name. I'm not sure I ever even knew his last name. I just knew I had a cousin called Donnie. When his name came up I never made the connection. I haven't thought about him since I was a little kid. And even if I'd known, it wouldn't have made a difference. He's a terrorist, he belongs in jail. I'd never kidnap Morgan and the others to get him out. Never! But try convincing Dobson of that."

Reid smiled bleakly. "I've tried, believe me."

"And they say I've been getting money," Garcia continued as if she hadn't heard him. "A lot of money, but I haven't seen any money. Is it true?"

Reid nodded. "There are 250.000 dollars on you account right now, courtesy of the HBM. You haven't noticed? When was the last time you looked at your bank statement?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "It hasn't really been a good week for doing banking errands, you know?" She laughed, but it didn't sound genuine. Reid could relate. He hadn't been doing much other than working since this whole thing had started either. "But why are they sending me money when I don't even know them?" Garcia wondered.

Reid shrugged. He didn't have a good answer. "Who could've gotten into your computers?" he asked instead. "That secret file has to have come from somewhere. If you didn't put it there, then who?" He hoped he didn't sound too accusatory, even though he was basically paraphrasing Dobson.

"I don't know," Garcia said, looking distraught. "I've been thinking about it all day and I just don't know. Normally I would've guessed that someone had hacked into the computer and created a mirrored hard drive via an offshore server. That way you can create documents directly in the original hard drive. But the FBI's system is supposed to be nigh on unhackable. Plus, I've put extra security on my systems. The way that Jones describes it, it sounds like someone has had physical access to my computers, and that just hasn't happened. But Reid…"

"Yes?"

"If… and I do mean _if_ I would ever do something this… this…"

"You haven't done anything, I know that," Reid assured her again.

"I know, I know…" she said. "I'm just saying that _if _I had, do you really think I would be stupid enough to store information on a computer that could be connected to me?"

"No, I don't."

"Then help me to get Dobson to understand that! Cause I can't seem to get through to him." Garcia's frustration was clear and for a moment Reid saw her usual pluckiness peak out behind the desperation.

"I'm trying," Reid said. "But he's not really listening to me either." He changed the subject. "How's your lawyer?"

"Okay, I guess." Garcia shrugged. "She's nice."

"Henry said that he's going to get you a better one, he said he knew someone."

Garcia looked at him with suddenly alarmed eyes. "You've talked to Henry? What did he say?"

"He thinks this is crazy too," Reid said, and Garcia visibly relaxed. Reid realized that she'd been scared that Henry wouldn't believe her either and leave her over this. "He- he said he loves you," he said quickly, a little embarrassed, "And that he'll see you soon."

Garcia gave him the first smile he'd seen all day, but then she became serious again and once again she clutched his hand, her fingernails digging into his palm. "You have to continue looking for the others, Reid," she said, leaning over the table to make her point. "If Dobson's team believe I did it then they're gonna be looking in the wrong places. But you can't do that, you have to keep looking. Promise me that."

"What? I- Yes, of course." Reid looked startled. "Of course, I'll keep looking, I just don't know…" He looked down at the table, trying to collect his thoughts. "I don't know what I'll be able to do. Dobson isn't listening to me."

"But you have to try. You're all they have now." Suddenly she quieted and looked at him, frowning. "What are you doing here?" she asked angrily.

"What?" Reid asked, taken aback by the sudden change in her behavior.

"You're not supposed to leave the office. This is dangerous, you shouldn't have come. Not for me."

Reid looked at her. "But I had to. Someone had to. I'm sorry it's just me. I really wish Morgan was here right now. Or Hotchner or Gideon. None of them would've let Dobson take you. I don't know what to do…"

"Yes you do," Garcia said comfortingly. "You'll find them and then you'll get me out of here and everything will be fine."

He smiled nervously at her. "I thought I was supposed to cheer you up."

"We're still a team, aren't we?" Garcia said. "We look out for each other."

"What about you?" he asked. "Are you going to be okay? Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Besides breaking me out?" Garcia laughed mirthlessly. "When you talk to Henry next time, tell him that I really need him right now. Tell him to come here as soon as he can. Tell him… tell him that I love him too."

Reid promised.

* * *

TBC…


	14. Chapter 14

Reid left the prison utterly disturbed, agents Lee and Jensen flanking him on either side. He noticed that the other agents were looking surreptitiously around the parking lot, but at the moment, Reid was just too exhausted to care. This visit hadn't been a pleasant experience. Not that much that had happed this last week had been pleasant. As so often his thoughts went to his missing teammates. Was he doing all he could for them? What was he missing?

The visit with Garcia had been disconcerting, to say the least. He didn't know if he was strong enough or experienced enough to be the only one on her side, her sole defender. Not that he had any hesitations, he would be there for her no matter what, but he could already feel himself stretched too thin. The events of the last couple of days were pulling him in every direction, and in every direction he only met more resistance.

Agent Lee opened the back door of their SUV for Reid, ushered him in over the bench and climbed in behind him, while Jensen got into the driver's seat. Jensen and Lee did try for some light conversation, but Reid mostly tuned them out. He sat staring out the window, mulling darkly over Garcia's dejected attitude.

Jensen turned the key in the ignition, but the engine only sputtered. She frowned at the sound.

"What's wrong?" Lee asked, leaning over into the front seat.

"I don't know," Jensen said, trying again. "It worked fine on the way here."

"I don't like this," Lee said. "In movies, this is always when…"

Lee and Jensen looked at each other, Jensen's eyes big. "Let's get out of here."

Jensen already had her hand on the door handle. Not having paid much attention to their conversation, Reid was a little slow on the uptake, but Lee had already leaned over him and popped open his door. Luckily none of them had put on their seatbelts yet. "Let's go, let's go, let's go," he chanted, pushing at Reid to get out.

Reid stumbled out of the car, Lee's hand insistent on his back as he urged him further and further away from the car. Jensen rushed the other way. They still hoped that it was just a false alarm, that it was just a problem with the car, but they weren't taking any chances.

And then the explosion rocked the air. The deafening sound reached Reid's ears a mere fraction of a second before the full force of Lee's body slammed into his back with the speed of a freight train. The concussion wave sent them both crashing to the ground. Reid landed hard and Lee landed even harder on top of him, knocking every ounce of breath out of him. Metal, glass and fire rained down on them, hot and heavy, but Lee's body sheltered Reid from most of the debris.

Reid felt like he was trapped in a vacuum for an eternity, but once he regained his senses, he realized that not even a minute had passed. Chaos still reigned around him, burning hot and loud. "Lee?" he wheezed arduously. "Lee? You okay?"

There was no answer and the heavy body on top of him didn't move. Something smashed into the pavement beside him, making him flinch as sparks and embers filled his line of sight.

"Lee!" Reid called louder, finding his voice again. He put a shaky hand on the ground and tried to push up to dislodge the heavy bulk, but Lee was a dead weight pressing down on him. The only reward for his efforts was a limp arm that slid off his shoulder and thumped onto the ground, lying palm up, its fingers curled into the hand. Reid stared at the hand and at the blood rapidly running down the arm and pooling in the upturned appendage, forming a rising lake that inevitably ran over, slowly trickling onto the ground. Reid had to force himself to tear his eyes away from the ever increasing tendrils running towards him. Worry and shock gave way to panic and fear, and he started a forward motion as he tried to slither out from underneath his human shield. "Lee?" he tried again.

Suddenly someone grabbed his wrists and pulled hard. Reid cried out in pain as he felt something snap in his left wrist, but the effort was working and he was slowly being pulled out from underneath Lee's protective embrace. When his body was free from his prison he looked up, expecting to see a worried face, prepared to thank his helper. Instead he saw a black balaclava, pulled up above the nose and a pair of cold eyes met his. Instantly he tried to pull away from the death grip on his wrists, but a second masked man came up from the side and grabbed him underneath the arms. Together they pulled Reid up on his knees and then they each grabbed one of his arms, pulled him the rest of the way up and started dragging him across the parking lot.

"No, let me go," Reid protested. "Lee!" He dug his heels in and struggled with all his might. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the other agent lying on his stomach and Reid's knees buckled at the sight. A large piece of metal was protruding from Lee's back, too large not to be fatal. His jacket was saturated in blood, and his sightless eyes were staring at Reid. No one had to tell him what that meant.

"No," Reid breathed, and then he started to struggle harder, his instinct telling him to go back to his fallen comrade. His captors, however, weren't giving an inch. Reid was taller than both of them, but they easily out-muscled him. Half-dragging, half-carrying Reid, they jogged towards their own car, which wasn't an SUV, but an old, red, beaten up Ford. They weren't hindered the slightest by their struggling burden.

"Lee," Reid called, shouted, screamed. "Lee!" He managed to pull away from one of the men holding him and was rewarded with a resounding blow across his cheek that blurred his vision and sent him stumbling into his other captor, who shoved him away again. The first man's hands were back around his bicep and they were dragging him again. Disoriented Reid stumbled with them, not knowing which way he was going.

The gunshots surprised all of them, but perhaps Reid the most. The shock of the explosion and seeing Lee had made him forget about Jensen. She was crouched behind a car a few feet away, firing above their heads so she wouldn't accidentally hit Reid. One of the men immediately let go of Reid and pulled his gun, while the other started pushing Reid even more forcefully towards the car, which was only three feet away.

More shots suddenly came from another direction. The man and Reid both turned towards the shots and saw several prison guards that had been alerted by the explosion and were now rushing in to lend back up. The momentary confusion served Reid well. As the kidnappers ducked to avoid the bullets, Reid managed to tear away, ripping apart the seams in his jacket in the process. He ran towards the guards, hunched over to get out of the line of fire and it wasn't until he was behind them he turned and pulled his own gun. But the kidnappers were gone. They had jumped into the car and sped away, leaving behind a line of burnt rubber. The prison guards had lowered their guns, one of them requesting back up and roadblocks over his radio. Jensen, however, was still firing furiously as she ran after the car. The back window shattered, and then the car was out of firing range. Jensen stopped, screaming in frustration, before turning around, looking towards Lee's body. Reid turned too and swallowed hard. This shouldn't have happened.

"Hey, kid, are you okay?"

Reid turned to the prison guard talking to him and nodded mutely in response and then started walking towards Lee. The guard let him go.

The blackened, twisted skeleton that had once been a car was still burning hotly in the parking lot, fire rising high, smoke rising higher. The wreck screamed and groaned in the oppressive heat, the metal twisting in on itself, glass and rubber melting. A deformed and charred door lay on the ground, rocking lightly in the heat waves the car emitted. Reid almost tripped over it as he hurried back over the parking lot.

Reid reached Lee before Jensen did and clumsily fell to his knees on the ground next to him. He reached out, letting his fingers touch the neck, knowing full well that he wouldn't detect even the faintest flutter underneath his trembling fingertips, but he had to check anyway. The skin was still warm to touch and he realized that hardly any time at all had passed. Blood still ran freely from the wound on Lee's back.

Jensen reached them and stood behind Reid. She tentatively touched his shoulder and he looked up at her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, but her eyes weren't focused on him.

"Yeah," he said, his voice sounding muted in his own ears. "You?" She had soot on her face, an ugly burn on the back of one hand and her coat was singed, but other than that she looked unharmed.

"I-" Her voice broke and she took a moment, her lips pressed hard together. "Yeah, I'm okay. The, uh, the EMTs are on the way. It's… Oh, god, I can't believe this. Reid, are you sure you're okay."

"As much as I can be." Reid stood up and took two steps back. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Jensen said quickly.

"No, yeah, I… uh… I- I didn't mean that." Oh god, he hadn't even thought about that. "I'm- I'm sorry for your loss. I liked Lee. He was a good agent."

"Yes, he was," Jensen agreed. "He was a good partner. He didn't deserve this."

"No one ever does."

The next time the door opened, the bound agents steeled themselves for whatever their kidnappers had in store for them. But half a minute later the door was shut again.

"Uh, guys?" Prentiss said. "The guy just cut me loose."

"Then what are you waiting for, girl?" Morgan asked. "Help us."

There was a rustling sound as Prentiss took off her hood, then "Yes!"

"What?" Hotchner asked.

"Reid's not here," Prentiss said and they could all hear the smile in her voice.

Morgan grinned widely under his hood. "Way to go, Reid," he whooped.

JJ raised her head. "Hey, do I smell hamburgers?"

TBC…


	15. Chapter 15

The sound of shouting and yelling could be heard through the ceiling. The team sat quietly, their eyes ever so often drifting towards the ceiling, even though no words could be distinguished. Something had gone horribly wrong for Henry and the henchmen today. Now they were waiting to see what repercussions it would have for them.

When one of the henchmen opened the door to throw in their next hamburger meal, Gideon stopped him. "I thought we were leaving tonight."

"Change of plans," was the only answer he got before the door was slammed shut.

"So what does this mean?" Prentiss asked. "That they didn't get Reid or that… that something else went wrong." She didn't want to say the actual words, but what if the kidnapping had gone wrong because Reid had been killed.

"None of that," Morgan said. "Reid's fine, he's working on a way to get us out of here and he outsmarted them. That's why they're pissed."

JJ nodded, adding her silent support.

"But it wasn't part of their plan." Gideon said. "So the question is what consequences it will have."

* * *

Reid sat at his desk, staring at his hands. The mood in the room was somber and subdued, he felt as if people were tiptoeing around him. He suddenly noticed a speck of dried blood on one of his cuticles and scrubbed at it vigorously. The blood wasn't his. His ears were still ringing from the explosion, and his hearing was muffled. There was an elastic bandage wrapped tightly around his left wrist. An ice pack lay on top of it. He looked like death warmed over. His pants were ripped and soiled in the front, where they'd met the wet ground, the jacket he'd hung over his chair looked the same. There was soot in his hair, a pale shadow of a bruise on his jaw and a scrape on his chin and he looked as dejected as any man could.

His whole body was sore, his _mind_ was sore. He'd been shaken, body, mind and soul, and now he was just numb and empty. He'd used up every last bit of energy he'd ever had. He couldn't feel anything anymore. Now he needed… He actually didn't know what he needed and he didn't care enough to figure it out.

He'd been reluctant to leave the prison parking lot. As irrational as it sounded, he'd known that once he'd left, he'd never see Lee again. After that Lee would have other mourners, family and friends, but that time, kneeling in the dirt next to the ever growing puddle of blood, had been Reid's time, and Reid's alone.

But the others had pushed him away, paranoid over the fact that he'd been the intended target. No one seriously believed that the kidnappers would come back to a scene that was rapidly filling with more and more law enforcement personnel every minute, but they weren't going to take any more chances. These kidnappers had shown a remarkable willingness for risk filled operations. So Reid had been rushed into a car and driven to an ER with so many body guards flanking him he could've been mistaken for the president.

Though, if he were honest with himself, he'd been relieved to leave the scene before Dobson got there. He knew he'd have to face the man sooner or later, but to have been told 'told you so' over Lee's still bleeding body… he wouldn't have been able to stomach that.

"You should get some sleep," Landon Jones said, coming up behind him and putting a hand on Reid's shoulder.

Reid looked up at him, an almost-smile ghosting his lips. "I'm too tired to sleep."

"No, he's right." Jensen stood next to Jones, still looking a little shell-shocked. "Come on," she said with a thick voice. "You need to sleep in a real bed tonight. We both do."

Reid knew that any protests he could make would only be half-hearted, but before he could voice them a shadow above him alerted him to Dobson's presence and he looked up. "I'm really sorry," he said quickly, standing up, making the ice pack slide off his wrist and smack onto the floor.

"Yeah, Doc," Dobson said tiredly. "We all are." He put a water bottle on the desk in front of Reid. "Are you sure you're okay? The doctors checked you out okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Reid said, even though he felt bruised in places he hadn't even known he had. He sat down again and picked up the ice pack. His sprained wrist was throbbing. "I just don't get it. That bomb could've killed us. I would've thought they would want to catch me alive."

"They did," Dobson said. "Bomb squad's been over the scene. They've found fragments of the device and say that the bomb was remote detonated. The terrorists controlled the explosion. We believe they sabotaged the car to get you out of it and then they were going to use the explosion as a distraction to grab you."

"And it almost worked," Jensen said, looking a little guilty.

"What about their car?" Reid asked. "It got shot at. Did you find it?"

"We found the getaway car on a side road a few miles away, burnt out," Dobson answered. "They probably figured we'd be suspicious of SUVs-"

"Or it was too badly damaged when they ran Gideon and JJ off the road," Reid interrupted.

"Doubtful," Dobson said. "The tire tracks on that site match the ones at the convenience store where Prentiss was kidnapped. But the Ford has been in a scrap yard the last six months; HBM must have salvaged it from there. The employees at the scrap yard didn't even know it was missing. There aren't any cameras on the lot, so they can't tell us when it happened."

"I wonder how they knew I was going to be there," Reid mused. "The trap had to have been set in the parking lot. Do you think we were followed?" he asked Jensen, who shrugged.

"How do you think they found out? I think I know who told them," Dobson said darkly. "Garcia knew you were coming, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did, but come on," Reid stared disbelievingly at him. "How would she have been able to do that? She hasn't had any visitors besides me and if she's used the phone there'll be a record of it."

"They probably found out that Garcia's been arrested," Jensen said to stop the arguing. "It probably wasn't too hard to figure out you would go there sooner or later."

"Maybe that's why she was framed," Reid said, standing up to pace as he thought. "So I would go visit her and they would get a chance to grab me."

"Framed? Oh, come on Doc," Dobson said tiredly. "Not this again."

"They probably figured they'd have to do something drastic to get me out of the building," Reid defended his theory. "It's not that easy to get to me anymore."

"You make a lot of assumptions, Doc."

"I prefer to call them theories."

"Fine, whatever, I give up." Dobson said. "Knock yourself out with your little conspiracy theories, but while you do that, I'll concentrate on finding your team. And I hope you're not thinking of any more little outings in the future, now that you've seen what will happen. A good man is dead, needlessly, because you refused to listen to simple instructions. Don't you care that you put other agents at risk? Not just mine, but your own team too. Didn't it ever occur to you that these people might just be waiting to collect the whole set of you before making all of you disappear for ever?"

"Sir!" Jensen said indignant, thinking that he had gone too far.

But Reid just looked at him with wide, excited eyes. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing that you don't deserve to hear…"

But Reid wasn't listening to him anymore. Adrenaline started pumping through his tired body. He sat down at his desk and fumbled for a pen, desperate to write his thoughts down so he could organize them better. "A whole set…" he murmured to himself. "Of course. But who could figure out… who could afford… connections… I've got to… yes, yes, that's it, that's why. Now if I can only find… Collection… collecting… What does that remind me of? Come on, come on… collecting… collecting…"

"Doc!"

Reid looked up. "What?"

"What are you on about?" Against his will, Dobson was curious.

"Never mind, I'll tell you later. I think I know what's happening. I just got to…" Reid trailed off again, completely shutting Dobson out.

* * *

On Thursday morning Reid was pouring himself a cup of coffee in the break room when Jensen came looking for him.

"Reid, they want you up in the round table room."

Reid put down the sugar shaker and looked at her. "Me? Why?"

"I don't know," she answered. "They just told me to come and get you."

They walked up together and Jensen opened the door and stuck her head in. "Reid's here, sir."

She stepped out of the way and Reid walked into the room. Everyone was looking at him with sympathetic faces and he felt his insides turn to ice. "What- what's going on?"

All eyes turned to Dobson, who scratched his head awkwardly. "Yeah, sorry Doc, but we've got some bad news."

"What?" Reid asked, dreading the answer.

"We think Morgan and Prentiss are dead."

"What?" Reid whispered, the color draining from his face.

Swartling bopped Dobson on the arm, obviously feeling that he could've delivered the news in a better way.

"Reid, come here, sit down," she said, gently taking his arm. "What Dobson is trying to say is that we've gotten a message from the HBM and it doesn't look good."

"Dead?" Reid said weakly.

"Here, read for yourself." Swartling put the letter in his hands.

Reid grabbed the paper with shaky hands, fully expecting to see his teammates' dead, vacant eyes staring up at him from it. But there were no pictures, just text.

_How dare you commit such an atrocity as to arrest our dear sister Penelope? It is an outrage and an insult to our entire family. As you apparently put such little thought and consideration into the situations of those who are supposed to be your friends, it will not sadden you to hear that Agents Morgan and Prentiss have been executed in retaliation for your betrayal. They died slowly and tortuously, screaming and cursing your names and your failure. If you have any shame you will now give us back our brothers and sister, and then _maybe_ we will consider releasing the rest of your people. If you continue to ignore us, more will die, and not just those currently residing with us. Beware, all of you, for tomorrow could be your last day on Earth. /HBM. _

After having finished reading, Reid turned the paper over, frowning, then reached for the envelope it had come in, looking into it. "Is this all?" he asked. "They didn't send anything else?"

"No, that's all," Swartling said, a little confused by his reaction.

"Then they're not dead," Reid said decisively, the relief evident in his voice.

"You know something we don't, Doc?" Dobson asked with a raised eyebrow.

"They're not dead," Reid insisted. "Look at this note, it doesn't give us anything. If they were really dead the kidnappers would've told us where we could find the bodies, or at the very least sent us pictures."

"Maybe they didn't want to leave any physical evidence," Jones said.

"No," Reid said. "It doesn't work like that."

"You think the terrorists are going to be playing by your rulebook, Doc?"

"Yes, yes I do actually," Reid said. "I'm a profiler, I know kidnappings. It's about control, power and fear. If they had killed Morgan or Prentiss the way they say they did, then they would want us to see their tortured, mutilated bodies." His breath hitched for a moment as his brain caught up with his mouth and the images of Morgan and Prentiss' tortured and mutilated bodies filled his mind.

"What I'm saying," Reid said. "Is that they wouldn't gain anything by just telling us they're dead without showing us. All we have here is their word for it and their word can't be trusted. This is nothing but a scare tactic to get us to act."

Dobson sat down next to him with a grimace. "We don't know what happened, Doc. They could've been killed by accident and they're using this as an excuse. It's been a week today since Morgan was kidnapped. How many kidnapping victims survive that long in captivity?"

Reid closed his eyes and bowed his head. He knew exactly how few they were and the percentage was devastatingly low.

"I know," he said. "I know that theoretically they could all be dead by now. I know that we haven't had any contact with any of them, that there hasn't been any evidence that they are still alive. I know that they could've been killed the moment they were kidnapped, even if I don't think that's the case here. But I do know that if they're dead, it's not because they are punishing us for this. Not without leaving some kind of proof."

Dobson looked calculatingly at him for a while before nodding. "Okay," he said. "Until we have bodies we'll work under the assumption that they're still alive."

Reid looked surprised at being listened to.

Dobson stood up. "Let's make some more copies of the letter, I want to confront Garcia with it."

"What?" Reid said horrified. "Wait. No. You can't do that."

Dobson slowly turned around. "Excuse me?"

"You can't show that to Garcia," Reid said protectively. "You can't tell her that they might be dead."

"Have you missed something here, Doc? It's what I've been saying all this time. Garcia's in on it and this proves it!" Dobson slammed his hand down on the letter lying in front of Reid on the table. "This letter confirms that she's a member of the HBM and has been feeding them information for months now. They are naming her specifically, how can you still doubt the evidence?"

Reid opened his mouth to answer, but discovered that he didn't know what to say.

"So please tell me why I can't tell her that the people she's sent off to a bunch of killers might be dead?"

"She didn't do it," Reid said with a low voice. "She was framed."

"You know Doc, you were this close to being back on my good side," Dobson said, showing Reid the smallest possible space between his thumb and index finger. "But now you've ruined it. She wasn't framed. The HBM have claimed full responsibility for all five kidnappings. Unsubs who claim responsibility for a crime usually don't try to frame others for it, they don't need to."

"Then they were framed too," Reid said. He had no idea where the idea had come from, maybe the thought had lain dormant in his mind for some time and now the words had just jumped out of his mouth. But now that he'd said it, it suddenly made all the sense in the world. Dobson didn't share that conviction, though.

"What?" Dobson fairly exploded, not believing what he had heard.

"No, seriously," Reid looked up at him. "Think about it. We haven't been able to find a motive, none of them know anything-"

"Get out."

"But-"

"Now, Doc. For your own good, get out of my sight," Dobson yelled.

Jensen touched Reid's arm. "Come on," she said quietly, leading Reid out of the round table room.

* * *

TBC…


	16. Chapter 16

"What's that?" Reid asked as he saw a forensics tech walk past his desk carrying a box.

"It's the stuff from Agents Gideon and Jareau's car," the tech answered. "We just finished with it."

"Can I see it?" Reid asked.

"Sure," the tech shrugged, but Jensen suddenly sat up straight.

"Hey, wait a minute," she said. "You're not supposed to-"

"Come on," Reid cajoled her. "What can it hurt?"

Jensen looked hesitant before she nodded to the tech to put the box down on Reid's desk. "Okay then," she said, stealing a look up at the closed blinds of the round table room. "But make it quick."

Reid took the lid off and looked into the box. The car belonged to the bureau, so there were just some personal items in the box, each one put in its own clear evidence bag.

"Did you find anything useful?" Reid asked the tech.

"We dusted everything for prints when we checked the car," the tech said. "We only found Gideon's, Jareau's and some from the people in our garage. The car's been sent to the shop and Agent Dobson asked for this to be sent up."

Reid looked at the items. Gideon's gun, JJ's cell phone and handbag, a pen, a folder and a notepad. Reid picked up the cell phone first. He pushed at a few buttons through the plastic bag, but the battery was dead. Then he picked up the notepad. The top sheet was crinkled and ripped. Reid tried to smooth it out through the plastic, but didn't succeed so he took it out of the bag. Laying it flat on the desk he held the corners down with his hands and looked at the writing. JJ's sloppy handwriting was familiar, although the letters and numbers looked shakier than usual, indicating that she'd been writing while the car was moving. There was a sharp intake of breath as he realized what he was looking at.

"A license plate number… Did you run it?" He looked up expectantly.

"Of course," the tech answered. "It came back empty. Doesn't exist. We put out a BOLO anyway, in case they're running with fake plates."

Reid's face fell. For a moment he had hoped…

The tech saw his disappointment and hurried to say, "We've analyzed scraped up paint from the rear end of the SUV. We've found fragments of the other car and believe we have the make and model. Who knows, coupled with the fake plates, maybe someone will spot them."

"Yeah, maybe," Reid said tiredly.

"Are you finished with this now?" Jensen asked him.

He nodded. "Go ahead and take it up to the conference room. Dobson will be waiting."

* * *

During the day Reid had noticed that Dobson never mentioned Prentiss or Morgan anymore. He would either say 'the team', or mention Hotchner, Gideon or JJ by name. That meant he didn't fully believe in Reid's analyses of the message and thought that they were probably dead. That didn't matter though, Reid didn't need his approval. He had his own ideas now and was fully prepared to undertake his own investigation.

"Have you even checked the security tapes?" Reid questioned, more or less ambushing Dobson in the break room.

"Which ones?" Dobson asked sourly, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Those from this floor," Reid clarified. "To see who has been in Garcia's office besides her."

"Yeah, we checked them."

"And?"

"And nothing." Dobson leaned back against the counter, eyeing Reid suspiciously. "There aren't any cameras in Garcia's office or directly outside. All we have is the general footage from the bullpen. There are a lot of people here every day; staff, witnesses, visiting agents… All of them with legit reasons for being here. There's no point in trying to run down every one of them to accuse them of terrorism."

"You're just saying that because you want Garcia to be your insider," Reid said sullenly.

Dobson's face grew red and his eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me that you don't think I know how to do my job?"

"Sorry," Reid said hastily, not wanting to alienate the other man further. "Do you mind if I try?"

"Try what, Doc?"

"Looking at the tapes."

Dobson sighed and pushed past Reid on his way out of the room. "If it'll keep you out of my way, then knock yourself out. Jones has the footage."

* * *

Jones was in Garcia's office, double checking the hard drives of the many computers kept in there. Reid stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the man who looked so out of place amongst the colorful knick-knacks Garcia kept there. He cleared his throat and Jones swung around to face him.

"Dr. Reid?"

"Hi," Reid said, smiling nervously. "Listen, I was wondering-"

"I'm not supposed to tell you anything," Jones said quickly. "If you have any questions you have to take them up with Dobson."

Reid ignored his request. "You said that the photos of Morgan and the others had been uploaded to Garcia's computer two and five days ago. You can see the exact time they were uploaded too, can't you?"

"Yeah…" Jones said carefully. "Why?"

"Can you tell me when?"

Jones hesitated, his eyes skipping to the phone.

"Come on," Reid cajoled. "You don't really want to believe Garcia had anything to do with this either, do you?" he asked, hoping that there existed some kind of honor code between the bureau's computer whizzes.

Jones sighed. "I never wanted to go looking through her stuff in the first place, you know." He turned to his own laptop and pulled up the correct file. "The first one was on Saturday 7.15 p.m. and the second one was Tuesday 10.24 p.m. But you didn't hear it from me."

"Thanks," Reid said, jotting down the numbers. "Dobson said I could look at the bullpen's security footage if I wanted. He said you had it. You can ask him if you want."

Jones shook his head. "It's okay, I believe you. Here." He dug through a box that stood on the floor next to him and came up with a couple of DVDs. "You can play these on your computer, right?"

"Yes. Thank you."

* * *

The DVDs were marked with the date of the recording and a camera ID, so Reid chose the two days that corresponded with the uploads to Garcia's computer. He concentrated on the vestibule with the elevators and looked for people who were veering off towards Garcia's office. He started a half hour before the first upload had taken place and continued a half hour after. He then repeated the process with the second DVD.

Henry Caswell…

When the obvious solution was staring him in the face he grew hot, then cold, then furious. He had been so unbelievably stupid! How could he have missed it? It should've clicked the moment Jones told him the second uploading time. He'd been right there when Henry came by two nights ago. He'd seen Garcia leave her office to get her forgotten cell phone, leaving Henry behind. He should've thought of it the moment Dobson asked him who else had had access to Garcia's computers, but Reid, and the whole team, had grown accustomed to Henry's presence. Reid had been busy trying to remember strangers and unauthorized people coming into the bullpen. Henry was neither. He would've had access to Garcia's computers for months now. All that information that had been uploaded; the photos, the plans, their personal information. It had to have been Henry. He'd spent months with them, learning all about them. And then he'd framed Garcia…

'Garcia should've made the connection during her interrogations,' Reid thought unfairly, because deep down he knew that she would no more suspect Henry than she would suspect him. Not only was she head over heels in love with this guy, she was also a deeply trusting person. A personality trait that might be forever crushed with just one phone call from Reid.

* * *

Getting Garcia on the phone took some doing and once he'd gotten through to the prison it was a long wait before Reid heard Garcia's voice.

"Hello?"

"Garcia? It's Reid."

"Reid! Are you okay?" Garcia sounded anxious.

"What?" Reid's forehead furrowed, not understanding what she was talking about.

"I heard about the explosion… and about Agent Lee. I'm so, so sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," he said, a little ashamed that he hadn't realized that Garcia would've heard about the kidnapping attempt. "But-"

"And… and…" Garcia's breath hitched and Reid suspected that she'd been crying recently. "Dobson came here and showed me a letter that said Morgan and Emily are dead because of me. It's not true, is it?"

Reid cursed under his breath. He'd told Dobson not to show Garcia the letter. He should've known he wouldn't listen. "No, I don't think so, I think it was just a scare tactic." He felt guilty that he hadn't been with her to help her against Dobson, but he knew he would never have been allowed to go back to the prison.

"But you don't know for sure?" Garcia asked anxiously.

"No, not for sure," Reid said reluctantly. "But it's more likely… according to the profile."

He could almost hear Garcia relax on the other side of the phone as she heard the magic word profile. She trusted him so much… He hesitated, hating to bring her more bad news, but it was necessary.

"Garcia, I need to ask you some difficult questions."

"Okay," she said. "What's going on? Have you found something?"

Reid rubbed his brow, hating what he had to do.

"Maybe, that's what I have to talk to you about. It's about Henry."

"Henry?" Garcia's voice became shrill in fright. "Is he okay? Has something happened to him too?"

"No, no," Reid assured her. "He's okay. I just need to know… How- how often does Henry come to the office?"

"My office?" Garcia sounded puzzled. "Two, three times a week, I suppose. He thinks I work too late, so he likes to come and pick me up from work when we have a date."

"Is he- is he ever early?"

"Try always," Garcia snorted. "He comes straight from work and you know me, I'm never ready to go. Reid, what is it you want to know?"

"Just… Is he ever alone in you office?"

"Sometimes. If I have a late briefing or something I let him wait in the office."

"And you leave your computers on?"

There was a long pause, then Garcia coldly said, "I don't care what you think you know, Reid, but I trust Henry. He's the greatest guy I've ever been with and I love him."

"I'm sorry, but-"

"Besides, he's a complete klutz around computers."

Reid sighed. "That's an easy thing to fake. Garcia, someone uploaded that information on your computer, and if it wasn't you, then who else had access to them?"

"It wasn't Henry," Garcia denied and Reid could hear the choked back tears in her voice. "He can barely send an e-mail. He loves me, he wouldn't do this to me."

"Then who, Garcia? Who?" he pressed on.

"I don't know," she whispered. "Reid, please tell me that it wasn't Henry. Don't do this to me. Please. Don't let it be Henry. I need him."

"I'm so sorry," Reid said. "I hope you can forgive me one day, but I don't see any other way."

"No, Reid, no. Don't you dare…"

"I'm sorry," he said again. "But I can't see any other solution. I need you to tell me if you can think of any place where he might be keeping Morgan and the others."

"He hasn't done anything, Reid."

"A cabin, a storage facility… has he ever taken you someplace-"

"Reid, stop it." Garcia was crying now. "It wasn't Henry. It can't have been."

"I'm sorry, Garcia, I really am. I, uh, I have to go." Reid felt like a coward when he hung up the phone.

* * *

The round table room was empty as Reid snuck into it to look for the computer logs from Garcia's office. He was going to match Henry to every single upload. 'I'm not doing anything wrong,' he thought guiltily to himself as he entered the forbidden room. 'I work here too.'

Shutting the door behind him he went up to the table and started rooting through the papers spread out before him. But his search was brought to a stop as he suddenly found himself staring at the forensics' report regarding Gideon and JJ's car. There was something amiss here. He frowned. What had triggered his memory? Then he saw it. The license plate number JJ had written down. The number in the report didn't match his memory of the note.

He looked around. JJ's note was hanging on a white board, still in the evidence bag. He went over to reread it, just to be sure, but his memory hadn't failed him. The 4 was supposed to be a 9 and the 8 was really a well-rounded 3. Forensics had transcribed it wrong. Granted, JJ's handwriting could be tricky to read on a normal day and having been written while driving made it even more difficult. But still, they had had a BOLO out for the wrong car for days.

His original search forgotten, Reid hurried out of the room. Maybe he'd get lucky. Maybe the correct license plate number was the smoking gun he needed to cement his case.

* * *

TBC…


	17. Chapter 17

On Friday morning Reid, who had worked through the night and was running mainly on caffeine fumes, all but ran into the round table room, interrupting Dobson who was standing by a white board lecturing his team. All eyes turned to Reid.

"Out," Dobson said, pointing to the door.

"No," Reid said, "Not until you listen to me." The challenge was clear in his eyes.

"We don't have time for-"

"It won't take long, and you won't be sorry. I think I know what happened."

Dobson looked contemplatively at Reid. "You've got five minutes, Doc," he finally consented, sitting down with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Thank you." Reid pointed to Jones' laptop which was plugged into the plasma screen via a wireless connection. "Do you mind?"

Jones shook his head and pushed it over the table to Reid, who quickly pulled up a website showing a photo of a charismatic, tanned man in his mid-forties with wavy, blond hair and perfect teeth.

"This is Daniel Walker. He's the CEO and major shareholder of D. Walker Enterprises, a company founded by him some 20 years ago that has a several billion dollar turnover every year. Walker is considered a pioneer in home electronics: cell phones, DVD players, home computers etc."

Dobson made a get on with it gesture with his hand.

"I know of him," Reid impatiently started rushing over his words. "Because we investigated him about two and a half years ago during a serial kidnapping/murder case in his home town in Texas. Walker's a collector and being a multibillionaire he has had no problems putting together one of the most impressive private collections in the country. When we went to his house to interview him I saw some art work that really should be in a museum and Walker's been a suspected buyer in a couple of artifact smuggling cases, only there was never any tangible evidence, the paperwork always stopped short just before they implicated him. He's also a trophy hunter; you know the kind that goes on illegal safaris in Africa and comes back with mounted heads of endangered species. Walker wants the best of the best of the best, and what Walker wants, Walker gets and he doesn't care who he has to run over to get it. He buys and sells sports teams as if they are used cars and he's extremely competitive."

"Doc," Dobson said. "I'm sure this is all very interesting, but-"

"No, wait, there's more," Reid said quickly. "Gideon pegged Walker as a malignant narcissist, which fit the profile of the unsub we were looking for at the time. A malignant narcissist feels superior, unique, irresistible, brilliant, omnipotent and better than anyone else. He despises other people, holds them in contempt and regards them as lowly and subservient beings. The narcissist feels that his time is invaluable, his mission is of cosmic importance and his contributions to humanity are priceless. Therefore he demands total obedience and catering to his ever-changing needs. Any demands on his time and resources are deemed to be both humiliating and wasteful, but he's also dependent on other people, because he always needs to have his ego reassured, he needs to be told how important he is. But as he really despises other people he hates that part of himself, that feeling of dependence and therefore blames others for his anger and basically displaces all of his emotions on others. Malignant narcissists are control freaks who sadistically manipulate others to satisfy their needs and they demonstrate joyful cruelty and sadism. They're not sociopaths in that they have a full range of emotions. The only thing they can't feel is empathy."

"Whoa, Doc," Dobson stopped him. "As I said, I'm sure this is absolutely fascinating for someone like you, but what does that have to do with my case?"

Reid bit his lip in annoyance over the interruption. "Walker turned out to be innocent two years ago, but he did express a great interest in the BAU, in our work. He said he was always interested in measuring his skills to that of other hunters. Using his terminology, that's what he thought we were: hunters, trackers. If a narcissist likes something then he takes it and if someone impresses him he want to beat him, be better than him. Especially one like Walker who is rich and powerful and has all the resources he needs to make almost anything happen. Walker is an absolute alpha male. He doesn't just expect success from his underlings, he demands it. And the people working for him understand that. They understand that it is success or nothing, so if something goes wrong, they don't just expect to be punished, they'll most likely punish themselves. But Walker is smart too, and very careful. That's why no one has ever been able to trace anything back to him. That means that when something goes right, he gets to enjoy the riches, but if something goes wrong, then someone else pays the price."

Reid remembered when they had interviewed Walker. It had been he, Hotchner and Gideon that had gone to see him at his home. The house had been one big display case. Reid wouldn't have been surprised if he'd found a private curator puttering around the many treasures spread throughout the large ranch house. Everywhere he looked he saw art, hunting trophies and artifacts all carefully lit and displayed, designer furniture and the newest, most modern electronic equipment.

Walker had known who they were before they were even inside the gates, which made sense. Moguls like him didn't let just anyone into their homes and narcissists were notoriously paranoid. Walker had been challenging, meeting every question with one of his own with a perpetual amused catch-me-if-you-can attitude. But his eyes had been calculating and measuring as he had sized them up. Reid had seen that Walker had been impressed with them, especially when Gideon made an on the spot profile of him that was too accurate to deny. But Reid had also seen how unwilling Walker had been to be impressed with them.

He also remembered what Gideon had said as they left the ranch. "Some day, that man's going to mean trouble."

"Are you trying to say that you think this Daniel Walker is behind all this?" Dobson fairly oozed skepticism. "This all seems very far-fetched, Doc. You're basing all this on a conversation you had with the guy two and a half years ago?"

"No, not as far-fetched as you might think," Reid defended his theory. "You see, this whole time I've been wondering why us. You know? There hasn't really been any good reason for a terrorist organization to choose us for leverage. Terrorist targets are usually military, political or unprotected, vulnerable civilians. A group of high profile FBI behavioral analysts that chase serial killers don't fit that profile. If they wanted to target the FBI, they should've gone either for a Director or an anti-terrorist team or just random agents. And when reading the second and third ransom note, it seemed like they would've been satisfied with any agents as long as they could get their hands on as many as possible. There are plenty of unprotected agents walking the streets, why not just grab anyone of them? No, they were specifically after my team, even though they knew we would be protected. When we went to the prison to interview Nelson and Marquez they seemed genuinely surprised that someone was trying to free them. I think it was all a ruse to get us looking in the wrong direction while the real unsub was hiding in plain sight."

"Doc! Will you get to the point already?" Dobson said exasperated.

"I know who planted the evidence on Garcia's computers," Reid said quickly. "There's only one person outside this office she has trusted enough to let into her office. Her boyfriend for seven months, Henry Caswell. Unfortunately we've all become too accustomed to seeing him around here to find it strange. I was so busy looking for an outsider that I never considered him, but he was here both times when the photos of my team were uploaded into Garcia's computer and he visited here only minutes after you left for the hostage exchange. The plans were still on the white boards in the bullpen, telling him where Hotchner would be. Garcia has confirmed that he has been alone in her office at times. And two days ago I called him and told him the exact time I would be going to the prison to visit Garcia. He has had every opportunity in the world to pull this off."

"But what does that have to do with Daniel Walker?" Swartling asked, not following Reid's reasoning.

"I was just coming to that," Reid said. "Henry works for the Danwal cooperation, which is a branch of D. Walker enterprises. Henry works directly under Walker. You see, malignant narcissists are perpetually lazy. They're all talk, no action. They always let someone else do their work for them. Plus, they're bad at long-term planning. Walker would need someone very strategically apt to head an operation like this. Henry has all those qualifications, and he's gunning for a promotion. He told us that he was working on a big project and that if it came through, he would get it."

"That project being kidnapping your team on Walker's behalf?" Dobson asked doubtfully.

"I think so, yes." Reid confirmed.

"What about HBM?" Jones asked. "How do they fit in?"

"HBM have nothing to do with this," Reid said, to the disbelief of everyone in the room. "And Garcia has been framed."

"Come on, Doc, not this again," Dobson said tiredly. "We have a lot of evidence against them, remember?"

Reid shook his head. "I know that the money on Garcia's account according to your research comes from HBM, but you've never been able to figure out where HBM got their money from, have you? They don't have that kind of economy, Agent Swartling said so herself. Just the fact that the money between HBM and Garcia is traceable is suspicious in itself. Someone is pointing fingers, someone is laying out a false trail. Everything points to HBM because of a reason."

"Because they did it," Dobson said pointedly.

"You're not listening to me!" Reid exploded. "It's because someone wants us to think that. Someone who is controlling us, letting us know only that which he wants us to know. I mean, why now? It's been two years since Nelson and Marquez went to prison. If HBM wanted them back so badly, why wait two years? Also, Nelson and Marquez are too unimportant, too low in the hierarchy for the organization to take such extreme measures to get them out. They're not worth the risk. It had to be done by someone with a personal reason."

"Like a cousin," Dobson pointed out.

Reid shook his head, annoyed at the man's single-mindedness. "A cousin who she hasn't seen or heard of in 20 years? Or someone who's taken painstakingly care to find a personal link into our team upon which he could build his ruse? Remember, Henry started dating Garcia more than six months ago, this has been long in planning. Walker is a billionaire. He has the time, the money and the power to pull something like this off. Besides, you're not giving Garcia enough credit. If she was ever going to be a part of something like this, then she would make sure we would never be able to trace it back to her. She's too good. If she actually was desperate enough to try and break someone out of prison she would make sure it was so far away from us that we'd never, ever hear about it. Using us as hostages, that would just be asking for trouble."

"And you think this Walker did it and that his motive is that he wants to be a better hunter than you guys?" Dobson sounded skeptic.

"That's the classic trademarks of a malignant narcissist," Reid informed him."He needs constant reassurance from the world around him that he is the best. He knows right from wrong, he just doesn't see the point of following someone else's rules unless there's something to gain by it. But he does understand the importance of playing by the rules, or at least keeping up the appearance. That means that he knows every loophole, every shortcut. That's why he's never been caught."

"Yeah, whatever you say Doc," Dobson said flippantly. "But you don't really expect that any prosecutor will ever dream of putting together a case on the basis of what you just told us, do you? And how does this help us locate your team? Where does this Walker character live anyway?"

"His main house is a ranch in Texas, where he runs his business. He also has several vacation homes throughout the country. Mostly hunting lodges and cabins in isolated places. The one building that stands out is a house in a suburb to Washington D.C., bought and paid for the same week Henry Caswell first appeared here, a little more than seven months ago. There's no record of Walker having been in D.C. since he acquired the house, but I'm willing to bet that if we look at Henry's phone records we're going to find a lot of calls to and from Texas. If we can make that connection then we'll have enough circumstantial evidenceto get a search warrant for that house."

Dobson shook his head. "You can't just pull a name out of your ass and expect us to jump at it. Like you said it's just circumstantial_._"

"Henry won't have any evidence at his own home," Reid argued. "It would've been too risky since he's been taking Garcia there for months. But if we can find proof that Walker's house is at his disposal too, them we'll have enough for a search warrant. Check his phone records, that's all I'm asking. Please."

"I don't know, Doc." Dobson still wasn't convinced.

"Don't you see? Everything points to one man, one behind the scenes financier man whose iron will governs and controls people who doesn't even know it. That's Walker. I told you, Walker knows what he wants and will stop at nothing to get it. But he also needs someone with a lot of patience and the ability of long-term planning and thinking, with a complex and elaborate network of accomplices. Henry, with the financial backing of Walker, is the perfect match. Walker's workers are loyal, even devoted, to him, but he is loyal to no one but himself. His workers are expendable. Should they be caught or killed while doing his bidding he will only mourn the delays or termination of the projects. Likewise he has no problems sacrificing them if it means saving himself. He doesn't tolerate mistakes and they all know it. If you make a mistake then you're on you own."

"Doc, you're ranting again," Dobson warned him.

"I'm not ranting," Reid bit back. "I'm trying to give you a psychological profile of our unsub." He wondered if Dobson felt stung by the profile, as he had some narcissistic characteristics himself. "Think about it. If this was HBM, why haven't they simply killed the hostages by now? It's quite obvious that we'll never make a trade with them. Kidnappings are a risky business. The kidnapping must have a value in itself, it has to be worth the risk, it has to pay off. Political kidnappings are for one of two reasons; ransom or terror or sometimes both. But either way you need resources. Don't you understand? It's a scam, a ruse, a diversion.It has nothing what so ever to do with terrorism or HBM. It's a magic trick, it's an illusion. Keep everyone's attention on the right hand so they won't notice what the left one is doing." He fished a coin out of his pocket and did just that. Jones looked impressed by the trick.

"And it was a safe distraction, because Henry knows that we don't negotiate with terrorists," Reid continued. "He knew that no matter what, we'd never ever let Nelson and Marquez go free, we'd just keep stalling, so he would never be in the position to have to go through with an actual hostage exchange, which is just how he likes it, because he has no intentions of ever letting Gideon and the others go. We've been barking up the wrong tree the whole week, because _that's the way he wants it._"

Reid pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and handed it to Dobson. It was a copy of the note with the license plate number on it. "This was found in the crashed SUV. It's JJ's handwriting."

"I know," Dobson looked questioningly at Reid. "We ran it, came up with nothing."

"That's because it was transcribed wrong. JJ's handwriting can be tricky sometimes. You see, this four-"

Dobson held up a hand, stalling his explanation. "Transcribed wrong? Are you telling me you've found the car?"

"Yes." Reid heaved a sigh or relief. Finally, something the man could understand! In retrospect, maybe he should've started with that information... "The car is registered to Danwal cooperation, which as I told you is owned by D. Walker enterprises. Daniel Walker acts as its CEO and it's where Henry Caswell works."

The room fell quiet. It was obvious that everyone was waiting for Dobson's decision. Reid was anxiously bouncing on his toes. He knew he was right, but had he convinced the man who called the shots?

"Well," Dobson said at length, lazily chewing his gum. "I don't know what to make of your idea about Walker, but if it is as you say, that this Caswell guy has had access to Ms. Garcia's office and works for the company that owns the car used for kidnapping Gideon and Jareau then I guess a search warrant is in order. This is your one shot, Doc, you'd better be right. Because if I'm wasting my time…"

"Yes sir," Reid said, relieved.

* * *

TBC…


	18. Chapter 18

Henry's cell phone transcript did indeed show a large number of phone calls made to Texas, which wasn't in itself incriminating as his company's main office was located there. It had, however, found another frequently dialed cell phone number, that had been identified as belonging to a person employed as a security guard at the Danwal cooperation, but when they checked it out, it turned out that that man hadn't been to work in over a week. Reid felt confident that he was one of the three kidnappers. Jones had traced his cell phone's GPS location to the house Reid had identified as a possible place to hide his team. A quick call to the dealership that supplied the Danwal cooperation with their cars had also revealed that the SUV they were looking for had a GPS navigator, which Jones had had no problem locating. The car was parked at the same address as the cell phone. The search warrant had not been hard to come by after that.

Reid sat in the passenger seat in one of the bureau's SUVs with Jensen driving. He stared at the scene they were driving up to, at the ordinary looking white, two-story house at the end of a suburban cul-de-sac. It looked new; in fact the whole neighborhood looked new. Some houses still appeared to be empty and one of them even had scaffolding standing against a still unpainted side wall. The lawns hadn't even grown in properly yet, you could still see where the rolled out sections of grass joined together.

'They have to be here,' Reid thought as they drove through the picture perfect community. 'They just have to. Because if they aren't, then I have no idea where to look.'

But they would be here, he was sure of it. He didn't care about anyone else's skepticism, he'd gotten his confirmation about an hour ago when the surveillance team had reported that Henry had shown up at the site, had gone into the house and had been in there ever since. Reid could see his car parked in the driveway, in front of a closed garage door.

Undercover agents had discretely evacuated the neighboring houses during the afternoon and SWAT had scouted the area. It was now dusk and they were finally ready to make their move. A large contingent of FBI vehicles was speeding up the street while still trying to be as discreet as possible.

Reid could see that the light was on in almost every room in the house, but that the curtains were drawn in every window. Whoever was in there obviously didn't want anyone looking in on them.

Jensen pulled up behind Dobson's car and got out. Reid jumped out too, strapped on his Kevlar vest and headed after the SWAT team. Suddenly Dobson was standing in his way, putting a hand on his chest. "Not you, Doc," he said.

"But…" Reid had already had to fight hard for his right to come here; he didn't want to be left out of the rescue operation.

"You can't shoot properly with that hand," Dobson pointed out, gesturing to the bandage on Reid's wrist. "And no argument, I haven't got the time. Jensen, keep him out here."

Dobson jogged off to join the SWAT team, leaving Reid and Jensen standing side by side on the driveway.

"Come on," Jensen put her hand on Reid's arm. "We'll wait by the car."

He reluctantly followed her over to the SUV. Jensen opened the back door for him, wanting him to sit down, but Reid couldn't. He was too tense. He paced impatiently in a short loop by the car, his eyes never leaving the house, hanging on every word uttered by the disembodied voices on the radio.

"Team one in position."

"Team two in position."

"On my mark… three, two… one!"

* * *

"Did you hear that?" JJ asked, looking towards the ceiling.

"Hear what?" Hotchner asked, but no one had to answer as they could now all very clearly hear the sounds of running footsteps and gunshots. They looked at each other. Was this a good thing or a bad?

* * *

"Target one subdued."

"Target two under control."

The sound of gunfire made Jensen pull Reid with her behind the car, just in case a stray bullet made it their way. Behind the car Reid stood, nervously balancing on the balls of his feet, staring at the house.

"Target three down."

There was a pause, too long for Reid's comfort.

"Hostages secured."

Reid put a hand over his mouth and bounced on his toes. They had found them!

The radio chatter continued, professionally cool and calm.

"Target four under control."

"Upstairs clear."

"Downstairs clear."

"Basement clear."

"Someone check the suspects for a key, would ya? And if you don't find one, someone bring down a bolt cutter."

"Found a key. Coming to you."

"All clear."

"Building secure."

"Hostages safe, bringing them out now. Have paramedics standing by."

The two last communications were Reid's undoing. The underlying panic that had plagued him the last couple of days finally left him, but the urgency remained. He couldn't help himself, he started running, ignoring Jensen's cries for him to stop, easily overtaking the paramedics moving towards the house. At the front door he had to stop as to not run into Henry, being led out in handcuffs by Dobson and another agent. Reid just stared at him, none of the things he'd thought about, none of the things he'd wanted to say, coming to mind. Henry looked at him too, coldly and full of contempt, without the jovial mask he usually wore around the team and Reid realized that for the first time he could see the real Henry, the man capable of kidnapping an entire FBI team and deceiving everyone around him.

Having studied the blueprints of the house Reid knew exactly where he wanted to go. As soon as the doorway was clear he lurched into the house, raced through the living room and skidded to a halt in the kitchen as his team was climbing the basement stairs in a single file. Reid stood by the kitchen island, his hands pressed against the smooth wooden surface for support as he saw them all walk out on their own two feet. He breathed a sigh of relief and cleared his throat, his heart rate slowly returning to normal.

A black clad SWAT member was first up the stairs, then came Morgan. "Reid," he grinned as he saw the other agent standing there, staring at them. "This guy here," he nodded to the SWAT member, "says we owe our rescue to you. Thanks man. Not that I ever doubted you, you know."

Reid gave him a bleak smile as Morgan pounded him on the back. "Are you okay?" Reid asked. The puffy black eye he remembered from the photo was almost gone.

"I am now," Morgan said cheerfully.

Prentiss had come up right after Morgan. "Are you okay?" she asked Reid as she joined them. "You look a little pale."

"Just, you know, long hours…" He shrugged it off, but the sight of his two supposedly dead teammates made his heart soar. He'd known they couldn't be dead, he'd known it. He just hadn't been sure…

Gideon supported JJ up into the kitchen. JJ looked ridiculous in Gideon's too big sweater, its sleeves hanging down past her knuckles. She smiled at Reid as he moved up to them and put an arm around her waist, freeing Gideon up. JJ looked steady enough on her own feet, but if Gideon didn't want to risk her walking by herself, then neither would Reid. Gideon let go without comment.

Not usually one for physical displays of emotion, Reid in his overwhelming relief and joy of having found his team felt an overpowering urge to hug someone, and JJ's warm arm around his neck was comforting, attention seeking and very, very real. They had been found, they were here and they were okay. He grabbed the wrist of the hand that was hanging off his shoulder and squeezed it affectionately before once again turning his attention to the other team members.

"Are you okay?" Reid asked Gideon, taking in the small scabs peppered over the older man's face.

"I'm fine," Gideon said, stroking his face to show that it was nothing to worry about.

"And you?" Reid asked JJ, feeling her body sag slightly against his. He adjusted his hold to balance her better. She had a crude, bloodied bandage on top of her messy hair.

"Sure, just not that used to being vertical at the moment," she answered lightly, but a light sheen of sweat on her forehead belied her statement.

"Reid?"

Reid looked over his shoulder, seeing Hotchner standing on the top step and realized he was blocking the way. "Oh, sorry." He smiled sheepishly and led JJ forward with small careful steps to make sure she stayed with him. "They've got paramedics waiting for you out front. You okay?"

Hotchner nodded and to his surprise Hotchner then grabbed a hold of Gideon's arm and supported him as he limped out of the kitchen. Reid had assumed that Gideon had been supporting JJ up the stairs, but maybe it had been a joint effort.

With JJ's arm curled around his neck and an impossibly big smile he trailed after his team out of their prison and into the fresh air.

* * *

The team stood gathered closely together by the open back doors of an ambulance. JJ was already on the gurney, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and the others were squabbling gently about whether or not they thought they needed to go to the hospital.

Gideon, not partaking in the good-natured bickering, turned to Reid. "How did you find us?"

The others quieted and looked expectantly at Reid.

"Yeah," Morgan said. "What was Caswell's deal?"

Reid scratched his elbow, pondering how much to information to give them now. "Do you remember Daniel Walker?" he asked cautiously.

Prentiss looked blank, but the rest showed different stages of recognition and surprise.

"The Texan billionaire?" JJ asked, her voice full of confusion.

Reid nodded. "He owns this house, or his company does anyway. Henry works for him and I'm pretty sure he takes his orders directly from him. But we found you thanks to JJ." He smiled at her and explained, "The license plate number. The car that was used to drive you off the road was also registered to Walker's company. I just put two and two together and found this house in the paper trail."

At that moment Dobson walked up to the team and interrupted Reid's explanations.

"Jason," he said with a nod to Gideon.

"Simon," Gideon acknowledged him.

"It's good to see all of you in one piece."

"Thanks for the rescue, man." Morgan said, sitting on the floor of the ambulance, his feet hanging out.

Reid got up close to Dobson. "Well? Did you talk to him?" He spoke rapidly. "Henry, I mean. What did he say? Are you satisfied yet?" Reid's last act before they left Quantico had been to pull Garcia's photo down from the white board where Dobson had been lining up suspects. She didn't belong there and Reid could finally do something about it.

"Yeah, I talked to him," Dobson said, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. "Looks like you were right all along, Doc. I've already made the calls and set the ball rolling. We can go get her whenever you want."

"Now," Reid said immediately. "I want to go now." Garcia should never have been incarcerated, and every minute she had to spend in there was a violation. He wanted to get her out, sooner rather than later. "I'll meet up with you at the hospital later, okay?" he said turning back to the rest of the team.

"Where are you going?" Prentiss asked.

"To get Garcia out of jail."

"What?" Morgan exploded, standing up. "What's she doing in jail?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you knew," Reid said slightly taken aback. It had been on the forefront of his mind for days now and he was so used to be the one who knew the least. It was hard to imagine that the others hadn't known as well. "I thought he would've bragged about it or taunted you with it."

"That who would have bragged about what?" Gideon asked patiently.

"Henry. He framed Garcia. He planted evidence on her computer to make it look like she was a part of the kidnappings. Dobson had her arrested two days after Hotch was taken."

"And you fell for it?" Morgan roared at Dobson. This was worse than he'd imagined when he'd thought about what Henry might have done to Garcia. He was ready to do battle with someone, Dobson being conveniently close at hand, but Hotchner held him back with a hand on his chest.

"Calm down, Morgan."

"Hey," Dobson defended himself. "When you see the evidence I was presented with, you'll see that I did the right thing. Come on, Doc, we'll take my car."

"No, I think I'll take my own car," Reid said quickly. "I doubt she'll want to ride with you."

"I'm coming with you," Morgan said decisively.

"No, you need to go to the hospital," Reid said, backed up by Hotchner.

"It's procedure, Morgan," Hotchner said. "Reid can handle this."

"Okay, but call me as soon as…" Morgan trailed off. "Wait, I don't have a phone."

"I'll meet up with you at the hospital as soon as I can, okay?" Reid promised. "And if Garcia's up to it, I'll bring her by too."

"If she's up to it?" JJ asked. She had followed the conversation horrified.

"She's not doing well," Reid said. "Between worrying about you, being a suspect and Henry's betrayal she's done for. Listen, I've really gotta go."

"Yes, go, go," Morgan urged him on. "Come back as soon as you can."

* * *

TBC…


	19. Chapter 19

It was almost midnight before all the paperwork had made its way through the proper channels and Garcia was allowed out into the waiting room where Reid and Dobson were impatiently waiting.

"Ms. Garcia, I'm here to apologize-" Dobson started, but Garcia cut him off without so much as a glance and walked straight up to Reid with a dogged face.

"Are they okay?" she asked anxiously. "Are they free?"

"Yes, we found them, they're fine," Reid said. "Prentiss and Morgan are still alive, they all are. They're over at the hospital, but everything looks good."

With her hands pressed to her chest, Garcia heaved a sob of relief, but then her face fell again. "And Henry?"

"He was found in the house where Morgan and the others were being held. He's been arrested. I'm sorry." Reid took a step towards Garcia, but she stepped back and turned away from them.

"I can't believe it," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.

Reid hovered uncertainly behind her, a hand that he didn't really dare put on her back raised in the air. "Do you… do you want to swing by the hospital? I know Morgan wants to see you. They all do."

Garcia shook her head. "I don't want to see anyone. I just want to go home."

"Of course," Reid readily agreed. "If that's what you want. I… You're okay, right? I mean, you're not hurt?"

"No," she whispered with closed eyes. "I just want to go home."

"Okay, come on, I'll take you," Reid said, finally letting his hand rest on her shoulder.

She pulled away from the touch as if she'd been burned and turned to face him. "No," she said harshly.

"No?" Reid blinked in confusion.

"No, I don't want you to." Her eyes fluttered around the room nervously. "I mean, I'm sure Agent Dobson can drive me home."

Dobson looked surprised. "Of course. If that's what you want."

"But…" Reid started, confused.

"No, no, you go… uh, you go back to the hospital, all right? I just want to be alone."

Reid tried to catch her eyes but she wouldn't look at him, so he looked down in the floor as to not make her any more uncomfortable.

"Okay," he answered reluctantly, wanting to respect her wishes. After what she'd gone through she deserved that integrity, even if he didn't think she should be alone right now.

"Ms. Garcia?" Dobson held his hand towards the door. "We can leave whenever you want to."

Reid walked quietly two steps behind Dobson and Garcia out through all guard stations they had to pass and on to the parking lot. Even though it was dark he could still see the charred ground where the car had burned two days ago. The asphalt where it had stood was dented and cracked. He passed the spot where Lee had died with a shudder. If there was still blood on the ground it wasn't visible in the dark, but Reid would always remember the exact spot where a good man had died protecting him.

He stood aside as Garcia and Dobson got into Dobson's car. As the car backed out of the parking space, Reid caught sight of Garcia looking at him through the passenger side window. He raised his hand in farewell.

She looked away.

* * *

When Reid stepped into the hospital waiting room, most of his team was already there, huddled together in the middle of the room.

Reid looked around at the disheveled BAU agents. "Have you all been released?" He looked at the brace on Gideon's knee and the crutches leaning against the chair next to him.

"Yeah, apparently we're all fine," Morgan said dryly. "We're just waiting for word on JJ."

Here, under the fluorescent lights in the sterile environment, Reid thought his friends looked even worse than when he'd seen them at the house. They all had deep, dark shades under their eyes, black fingernails, bloodshot eyes and matted, knotted and unruly hair. Scraggly beards clung to the men's faces and Prentiss' makeup had been washed off long ago. Their clothes were dirty, sweat stained and rumpled. Add to that various cuts, bruises and spots of dried blood on their clothes and it was a miserable picture. But most of all they looked worn, worn out and tired.

"What's in the bags?" Prentiss asked eyeing the take out paper bags Reid was carrying.

"Huh?" Reid looked down at the load he was carrying in his arms. "Oh. I just picked up some food."

"What kind of food?" she asked greedily_._

"Just sandwiches. And coffee." He held out the Styrofoam tray with the cups on it.

"Oh, bless you!" Prentiss all but tore the bags out of his hands and Hotchner freed him from the coffee.

Morgan was looking over Reid's shoulder impatiently. "Where's Garcia? Isn't she with you? Is she okay?"

"No." Reid avoided Morgan's eyes. "She- she wasn't feeling well. She wanted to go home. Dobson drove her."

"You didn't take her yourself?" Morgan was surprised.

"She didn't want me to. She just wanted to go home and be left alone."

"And you let her?" Morgan realized that he'd sounded more accusatory than he'd meant to.

"She doesn't want me there, Morgan," Reid said dully. It would have sounded pugnaciousif he hadn't been so tired. "Why don't you give it a try? I'm sure she'd love to see you, but she doesn't want me there."

"Why, what happened between you two?" Prentiss asked with a confused frown. From what she'd seen of Garcia and Reid during her short time on the team, she thought they seemed like quite good friends, even if she thought that Garcia often mothered Reid.

Reid grimaced. "I had to tell her something she didn't want to hear."

"About Henry?" Morgan guessed with clenched fists.

"Yeah," Reid said. "I guess… I guess sometimes it's just easier to blame the messenger." He sat down on an orange plastic chair next to Gideon, his head falling forward between his hunched, tense shoulders.

"Hey, man. You okay?" Morgan asked, his hand landing on Reid's shoulder.

"Just tired, I guess," Reid said listlessly.

"You know, she doesn't really blame you," Prentiss tried to comfort him. "It's just a defense mechanism."

"Maybe," Reid said. "But I wouldn't blame her if she did. She got sent to prison and she trusted me to help make things right, but I couldn't get her out. And then I had to call her, in prison nonetheless, and tell her that her boyfriend had betrayed her and then I had to leave her all alone in there with that knowledge. I was the only one on her side and the only thing I ever did was make things worse."

"No, Reid, no." Both Morgan and Prentiss tried to console him.

Gideon calmly put a hand on Reid's arm. "What could you have done differently?"

"I don't know," Reid shrugged. "Tried harder, worked faster, found you faster… broken her out of jail maybe." He gave them a shy smile.

"You've had to carry a big load on this one," Hotchner said. "But you did well. You found us, didn't you?"

"Not very fast, though," Reid said dejectedly.

"It was fast enough," Gideon said. "We're all alive, that's what counts. Reid, at the house you said that Daniel Walker was behind all this. I would like to hear more about that. Why did he do it? And how did you figure it out? Have you talked to him? Do you have enough evidence against him?"

"Other than that investigating his relation to Henry led me directly to you?" Reid asked rhetorically. "No. No, I don't. It's more... instinctual. But I have… well, I'll show you my material later."

Gideon and Hotchner looked at each other with raised eyebrows. The fact that Reid had spoken in first person singular didn't escape either of them. And since Reid wasn't one to put himself forward... Hadn't Reid had any help with the investigation? And then there was the comment the SWAT team had made while they'd unlocked their chains, about it being thanks to Reid they had been found. What had Dobson's team been doing? But Reid didn't seem up to more questioning right now. Maybe it would be better to ask Dobson directly.

"Reid?" Hotchner asked instead. "Do you know what happed to Miller and Marcus?"

Reid had to think for a minute as his mind wasn't alert enough to be thrown between topics without warning. He'd pulled an all-nighter last night, and tonight didn't look like it would be over any time soon either.

"Yeah, uh- Miller was shot in the shoulder, he's going to be fine, he's been discharged already. Marcus is somewhere here at the hospital. He was shot in the stomach and was in critical condition for awhile, but he's going to be fine too. He was moved out of ICU this morning. You should go see him."

"It's two o'clock in the morning," Hotchner reminded him gently. "I'll go see him later today, during visiting hours."

"Oh, right," Reid brought his arm up and looked at his watch. "I hadn't realized it was that late."

"Hey, what happened here?" Morgan took Reid's arm in his hands and pushed at the sleeve to get a better look at the bandage.

"What?" Reid looked surprised and then pulled on his arm and grimaced. "Oh, that."

"So… what happened?" Prentiss asked when Reid didn't make any attempts at explaining the presence of the bandage.

"It's nothing, it's just a sprain," Reid shrugged. "They tried to grab me on Wednesday, but it didn't work. I'm fine, but…"

Gideon and Hotchner exchanged looks over Reid's bent head. Something was wrong.

"Reid?" Gideon asked carefully. "What happened?"

"There was an explosion. They blew up our car…" Reid said quietly, his head still bent. "Lee died…"

"Who's Lee?" Morgan asked bewildered.

"His bodyguard," Hotchner answered in Reid's place.

"Jeez, kid," Morgan said, squatting in front of Reid's seat and putting a hand on his knee. "You've really had it rough, haven't you?"

Reid smiled bleakly. "I'm guessing your week hasn't been a picnic either. How was it in there? Did they at least treat you okay?"

"Yeah," Morgan admitted grudgingly. "As kidnappings go, I guess it wasn't too bad. It could've been a lot worse."

A doctor came into the waiting room and looked around. "Who's here for Jennifer Jareau?"

The team immediately got onto their feet.

"We are," Hotchner said. "We're her team. I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner." He then quickly introduced the rest of them and the doctor nodded at all of them.

"How is she?" Prentiss asked.

The doctor took one look at their collected bedraggled state and decided to keep it short. "As I'm sure you've already suspected she's suffered a pretty bad concussion, but in the days since it occurred, it has pretty much healed itself out.We will be putting her through a cat scan and an MRI to make sure there are no fractures or intracranial bleeding. In addition to that we're fighting an infection caused by the untreated wound with strong antibiotics and we're also treating her for slight dehydration and malnourishment. We'll be keeping her overnight and probably tomorrow too, but I'm not worried. She's asleep right now, you can come back and see her in the morning."

Relieved smiles showed on everyone's faces, but before anyone could comment, the outer doors of the waiting room opened and Haley stood in the doorway, with sleep-tussled hair and a rain coat. She looked around, her eyes quickly focusing on her husband, who, during the circumstances, didn't look too bad. She walked straight into his waiting arms, her nose crinkling a little at the smell of his body, but that didn't stop her from desperately clinging to him. No words were needed, they had been to together too long for that.

The others turned away respectfully, giving them their much needed moment together. "Come on," Reid said to the others. "I've got the car outside, I'll take you home."

* * *

TBC…


	20. Chapter 20

Morgan knocked on Garcia's door and waited impatiently. He could see a splotch of light coming through the peephole, so he knew she was still awake, even though it would soon be morning again. When the light was blocked out he smiled and waved. He heard chains rattle and shivered at the metallic sound, scolding himself for letting something so small get to him. A second later the door was thrown open and with an unarticulated cry Garcia threw herself around his neck.

"Hey princess," Morgan said as he slowly had the breath squeezed out of him.

"Morgan! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, hugging her back fiercely, then reaching up to pull a strand of wet hair out of his mouth. "It's you I'm worried about. Reid said you haven't been doing so well."

Those words had a very sobering effect on Garcia. She pulled back from him and turned to go back into the apartment. She was wearing green, checkered flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers and she had a towel wrapped around her shoulders, her hair hanging wet and dark over it.

"Whatever could've given him that idea," she said bitterly as Morgan followed her into the living room.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" Morgan asked. "Physically, I mean. Reid told me you were locked up."

Garcia detoured into her small kitchen area, picked up a spoon from the drainer and gave it to Morgan before going back into the living room. She gestured towards a large tub of chocolate ice cream standing on the coffee table, her own spoon sticking up from it. "Help yourself. And I'm fine. I was only locked up for three days. It must've been much worse for you. You spent a week in… in… oh, I'm so out of the loop. Where were you? What happened to you?"

They'd sat down sideways on the couch, facing each other and Garcia reached up and gently put her hand on the side of Morgan's head. The lump had healed during the week he'd been kidnapped. The area was still a little tender, but he didn't pull away from her touch.

"I'm okay," he assured her again. "They didn't hurt us. We were kept in a basement, but we had food, running water and blankets. We did okay."

"Good, I'm glad." Garcia took her hand away, put the ice cream tub in her lap and aggressively attacked it, keeping her eyes averted from him.

"I can't believe he did this to me," she started angrily, obviously understanding why Morgan had come looking for her in the middle of the night. She viciously stabbed the spoon into the ice cream.

"I know," Morgan said, his eyes following the spoon. "It's hard to understand, but you've got to realize that it's not your fault."

"I mean, I finally find someone decent, someone good, and then he goes and does something like this," Garcia continued her rant as if she hadn't heard Morgan. It sounded as if she was rehashing an old argument, one that she'd probably been having with herself for a while now.

Morgan shared her wrath. "I know. Let me tell you, if I could get just my hands on him-"

"Why do you think he did it?" Garcia interrupted him. "Just to hurt me? I always thought I could trust him."

"You know, I honestly don't think it had anything to do with you at all," Morgan said. "It was just part-"

"I mean," Garcia interrupted him again. "Just because Henry went to my office once in awhile, Reid just decided out of the blue that he had to be the culprit."

"I know, I- wait. Are you talking about Reid?" Morgan was surprised. "Are you mad at Reid?"

"Yes! Who did you think I was talking about?"

"Henry of course," Morgan said. "He did kidnap us, you know."

Garcia looked blankly at him for a moment, then she shook her head and looked away. "No... You see, just because he was... no. I don't want to talk about Henry."

"Garcia, yes," Morgan leaned forward and took her hand, making sure she was looking him in the eyes. "Yes he did. I saw him, I talked to him, there's no doubt, no question about it. Henry used you to get to us, to get access to our systems and to frame you as a diversion so you wouldn't find us. Reid's not at fault here. He saved us. All of us... you too."

"But..."

"No buts, sweetheart. I'm sorry, but it's what happened. And it's not fair to be mad at Reid."

"I know," she said quietly, looking down at their intertwined hands.

"You know?"

"Yes, of course I know, I'm not stupid." She sounded irritated, but Morgan squeezing her hands calmed her down. "I just can't help how I feel. And the fact that I know I'm not supposed to feel this way, makes me feel even worse. But I suppose I've known ever since Reid called me. I've had a lot of time to think, you know, and I know that Reid would never tell me something like that without being sure." She let go of his hands and wrung her own hands together without looking at him. "All those times he came to my office, all those questions he asked... It all looks so different in hindsight. I just didn't want it to be true."

"So you decided to be mad at Reid instead?"

"I didn't _decide_ to be angry with him, I didn't want to be angry with him, but… well... it came so easily." She kept looking down, ashamed.

"Garcia, honey, you know why you're angry with him, don't you?" Morgan bent his head and peered at her face.

She nodded and laughed mirthlessly. "Yes. I must've been hanging around you lot too much if I can make snap psychological diagnoses. It's because I can't be mad at Henry... not without being angry with myself," she said quietly. "I'm the one who let him in. I let him dupe me... and he took it out on you. If I stop being mad at Reid then I'm going to start being mad with myself. Why did I let him do that to me? To us?"

"It wasn't your fault any more than it was Reid's," Morgan said. "There was no reason to suspect Henry. You should never have to suspect your boyfriend for something like that. It's not in our nature. There's no need for you to feel stupid or foolish, it wasn't your fault."

"That doesn't help." She looked up with watering eyes. "I still feel stupid."

"I know. But given time, we'll fix that." Morgan took the ice-cream tub out of her lap and pulled her into his arms. "We'll fix everything." It was probably too big of a thing to promise so rashly, but he truly wanted to make everything right for her.

Garcia let herself be held for a few moments before pulling back. "It's still so strange to think about. After you and Prentiss had been kidnapped, I stayed with Henry, to be safe… Ironic isn't it? But even though I was upset about you guys being missing, it still felt so right. And we started talking about moving in together. I thought we were going to move in together. I thought we were-" Her voice broke. "I thought-"

"It's okay," Morgan said, stroking her cheek.

"He was always so attentive, so loving," she said, biting her lip. "I never suspected a thing. Do you think he cared about me at all? Even just a little?"

Morgan smiled at her. "It's hard to imagine anyone knowing you without loving you."

She smiled back. "You're sweet. But all this time… all this time… We'd made plans, lots of plans. Did you know that Henry and I were going to go sailing next summer."

"You don't sail."

"No, but Henry does. He loves it. And I wanted to love it because he loves it. God, Morgan, how could I have been this stupid? Am I really that gullible? A man whispers sweet nothings in my ear and I throw all caution to the wind." She sounded bitter, stabbing her spoon into the softening ice cream again, leaving crescent shaped indentations in the chocolate treat. "Or maybe he doesn't sail at all. How do I know what's true or not? Was everything a lie? I need to know if it was all a lie."

Morgan didn't know how to answer that.

"I've been thinking about whether or not I should go see him," Garcia continued. "I don't think I want to see him ever again. Do you think I should go see him?"

"You'll have to decide that for yourself, pumpkin," Morgan said sympathetically.

"I don't want to see him, I don't. It's just that…" She trailed off, staring into space.

"Just what?"

She looked back at him "I kind of want to have a fight with him," she confessed.

"A fight?" Morgan looked surprised.

"Yeah, because… because the last time I saw him he was the sweetest boyfriend you could imagine, then out of the blue, Reid calls and tells me he's a… well, a bad guy. It's like… I don't know, I don't want my last memory of him to be a happy one. I want to have a fight, so it feels like we're broken up. 'Cause we've never had a fight and I don't feel broken up. I just feel abandoned."

"I guess that makes sense," Morgan said. "You'll see him at the trial though."

"Right, the trial," Garcia looked scared. "I'll have to testify, won't I? I hadn't even thought about that. To busy thinking about my own trial I suppose. You know, for kidnapping you."

"No one believes that any more, sweetheart," Morgan comforted her. "Not even Dobson. Reid changed his mind."

"Right, Reid…" Garcia looked guilty.

"But next time you've got a date, please let us run a background check on him, okay?" Morgan joked, or rather half-joked.

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Garcia said with a bitter laugh. "I'm done with men, no more dating."

Morgan frowned, he hadn't intended for his joke to evoke that kind of reaction. Maybe it was too soon for jokes. "No, Garcia, that's not the way to go," he said. "Come on, I know you feel hurt now, but you can't give up on life. You'll find some great guy down the line, don't deny yourself that experience because of what this creep did to you."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to trust anyone again," Garcia confided in him. "I'll always be questioning their intentions."

"You know," Morgan said thoughtfully. "I think you should go to Reid about this."

"What?" Garcia looked shocked. "You think I should date Reid? I mean, I like him and all, but going out with him-"

"No," Morgan laughed. "No, no, that's not what I meant. I just thought that if he was the one who told you just how statistically improbable it is that something like this will ever happen to you again, then you'll believe him."

She smiled bleakly. "I wonder if we'll ever be friends again."

Morgan looked surprised. "You and Reid? Of course you will. Why wouldn't you?"

"Because… I mean, I realize that Henry betrayed me and that he needed to be found out in order for you to be saved, but I still can't help but feel that Reid was the one who betrayed me. He took Henry away from me. First he got me doubting Henry and I hated him for that, and then when it turned out that he was right all along… I still didn't want to believe it. I'm still really conflicted. I still miss Henry. I hate what he did to you, but I can still remember the good times, you know? Like the sailing and the plans to move in together. I invested so much of my life in him these past months; I really thought I was planning for the future. I can't just turn that off like a faucet. And Reid… When they picked me up from the prison tonight, I could see that he felt sorry for me, and that annoyed me. What right does he have to pity me? I know he did what he had to do and I know that he was right and Henry was wrong, but it still feels like both of them betrayed me. And now I'm hurting him... I wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to talk to me again."

"Reid doesn't hold grudges, Garcia. If you just explained to him-"

"Explain what? That I'm sorry you were right, but I just can't like you right now?"

"He'll understand," Morgan said. "He understands more than we think... emotionally I mean. We know he understands everything else."

She smiled bleakly at the joke.

"But I don't think you'll get over this by sitting at home and dwelling on it," Morgan continued. "Let us help you. Let Reid help you. He's quite upset by this too, you know, and he feels guilty. And he might not say anything, but he misses you. He wants to makes things right between you two. He's still your friend."

"If it were only that easy," Garcia sighed. "But I suppose I should talk to him tomorrow."

"Or now," Morgan said. "He's waiting downstairs."

"Downstairs?" Garcia looked puzzled.

"Yeah," Morgan said. "He volunteered to drive all of us home. Well, except for Hotch. Haley picked him up, and JJ, she has to stay at the hospital. I told him I was coming here as soon as I'd gone home and showered and changed, so he said he'd stick around, drive me here too. I told him to come up with me, but he didn't think he'd be welcome, so he's waiting in the car."

He gave her a moment and watched the change in her demeanor as she plucked up the courage to face one of her demons.

"Well, there's no time like the present I guess," she sighed. "Okay, call him, tell him to come u- wait, what did you say about JJ? Reid said you were all fine!"

--

The ringing cell phone woke Reid with a start. For a moment he outright panicked before he realized that while he was sitting behind the steering wheel of a car, fast asleep, the car wasn't actually moving. He unclenched his panicked fingers from the steering wheel and fumbled in his pocket for the phone as he willed his heart back into its normal rhythm.

"Hello?" he said groggily.

"Were you sleeping?" Morgan asked, amused.

"No," Reid lied.

"You're supposed to be my designated driver, you know."

"You're not drunk."

"I know. Too bad."

When Reid had stopped in front of Morgan's apartment earlier that night he'd briefly wondered if anyone had ever gotten around to clean the place up like Garcia had wanted. In the car Morgan had said that he was just going to shower and change and then he would head over to Garcia's place, even if it was in the middle of the night. Reid had, even though he was just as tired as the rest of them, immediately offered to stay and wait and then drive Morgan to Garcia's apartment. He didn't know why Morgan had accepted.

The place hadn't been cleaned, but Morgan didn't comment on the state of his home. While he showered, Reid did his best to sweep up. That had earned him a questioningly and somewhat amused look which he had answered with a sheepish smile, before they started off to Garcia's place.

There Reid had opted to stay in the car with some feeble excuses. He didn't want to let on how much her earlier rejection had hurt and had dreaded an angry and embarrassing confrontation if he'd gone up. Instead he'd waited in the car… and fallen asleep.

Reid yawned, widely enough to make his ears pop. "Are you finished?"

"Not quite. Come up."

"What?"

"Come on up. Garcia wants to see you."

Reid hesitated. "Are… are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Now get your butt up here before I have to come down and get you."

--

Reid stood nervously in front of Garcia's front door, shifting his feet, unsure what to expect on the other side of the door. He knew he couldn't wait too long to knock. They were expecting him after all. When he finally did knock, it was Morgan who opened.

"Come in, sit down," he said. "You want ice cream?"

Reid looked at the soggy remains on the coffee table and shook his head. His throat was too tight to eat anything. He sat down on the edge of an armchair while Morgan sat on the couch with Garcia leaning into him. Reid couldn't help but wonder whether she was simply leaning into Morgan for comfort, or if she was actually leaning away from him. He didn't know where to look.

"I'm not mad at you, Reid," Garcia started.

"You're not?" He looked hopefully at her.

"Well, actually I am, but it's not really you, you know. It is just…"

"Displacement," Reid said quickly. "It's not uncommon, it's a subconscious-"

"Reid," Morgan interrupted him. "Not now."

"Sorry, I- sorry."

There was an uncomfortable silence before Reid found his voice again. "Garcia, you've got to believe me. I never wanted to hurt you. I didn't want it to be him either, I wanted to be wrong, but it was him and I had to act on that. And I understand how it might look like I betrayed you, but I couldn't not do anything. I had to… I had to make that sacrifice for the collective good. There was nothing else to do. It wasn't like he was really your boyfriend or anything, at least not on his part. He wouldn't have stayed with you if his plans had worked." He suddenly stopped himself, realizing that what he'd said had probably sounded callous. "I mean…"

"I know," Garcia said quietly. "I know all that. And I'll deal with it, I promise. Just…"

"Just not right now," Reid said.

"I want to," Garcia said. "But…"

"It's okay," Reid said. "I can wait." But he looked so dejected, it almost made Garcia cry.

Morgan took his arm away from around Garcia's shoulders and leaned forward. "Reid, it wasn't your fault. You've gotta remember that you're just as much of a victim in this as the rest of us."

Reid looked up, surprised. "But I-"

"Weren't kidnapped?" Morgan asked. "No, but you were supposed to be. And you had to sit and watch all of us disappear without knowing if we were dead or alive. You were in an explosion and watched a good man die and Dobson and his team were basically working against you, right? You must've felt terribly alone."

"I-" Reid's shoulders hunched further and he buried his face in his hands, drawing a couple of shaky breaths before looking up again, exhaustion and sadness marring his features. "I did what I had to do, that's all."

"Okay, now." Garcia suddenly said, sitting up.

Morgan and Reid looked bewildered at her. "Now what?" Morgan asked.

"I'm over it now," she said, looking at Reid. "It's passed. I'm not mad at you anymore. I forgive you."

"But…" Reid looked at her, wide-eyed. "It doesn't work like that. You can't just say you're over it and expect it to be over."

"Yes, I can," Garcia said stubbornly. "I'm not going to let what Henry did affect me anymore. I won't allow it. And I'm not going to take it out on you. Now come here and give me a hug." She stood up and held her arms out to him.

But Reid shook his head. "No, there isn't an easy fix for this. Saying you're over it doesn't make it true, especially if you're just doing it because you feel sorry for me and you know it. There are no shortcuts."

Garcia's lower lip trembled a little as she let her arms sink down to hang at her sides. "But I don't want you to have to feel bad because of my hang-ups. I want us to be okay."

"I do too," Reid assured her. "And we will be, when we've worked it through and when you are truly ready. For now, just knowing that you are willing to work towards that, that's enough for me. We'll be okay, in time. I promise." This time it was he who held his arms out to her and he was grateful when she stepped into them.

"In time," she whispered in his ear.

"In time," he whispered in hers.

--

TBC…


	21. Chapter 21

Morgan didn't know if it was the pain in his neck that had woken him up or the fact that he couldn't feel his legs anymore. What he did know was that this wasn't how he'd planned on spending his first night of freedom. Opening his eyes he found himself staring sideways at a lampshade, which would explain the pain in his neck, he thought as he lifted his head that had slipped off the couch and turned it to the front again. There he was treated to the sight of Reid, sprawled over the armchair in a fashion that made him look part man, part insect. His mouth was open and his head tilted back. Morgan smiled malevolently. He wouldn't be the only one with a crick in his neck today. Looking down at his legs he found Garcia curled up like a kitten with most of her upper body in his lap. She was still wearing her glasses, he noted. Sunlight was streaming into the room and Morgan squinted to see a watch. 12.34 p.m. He hadn't slept that long since his college days. But then again, they hadn't fallen asleep until after dawn.

He didn't remember falling asleep. They'd just sat there, talking about anything and everything, leaving the difficult subjects behind them and moving on to office gossip and other normal subjects as they became more relaxed in each other's company. He didn't remember who'd first succumbed to sleep. The last thing he remembered was seeing the sun creep up over the rooftops outside Garcia's window.

The shrill signal from a cell phone woke Reid and his body jerked in a comical fashion that almost made him fall out of the chair. Reid searched his bag frantically for his phone, but before he could quiet it Garcia was already stretching in Morgan's lap, once again reminding him of a cat.

"Morning," Morgan said to Garcia who was blinking at him while Reid had risen and stood by the window with his back to the room and talked on the phone.

"Morning," Garcia said with a thick voice. "Why are we sleeping on the sofa when there's a perfectly good bed in the next room?"

"I have no idea," Morgan answered, rubbing his neck and helping Garcia sit up.

"Actually, I can do that, sir," Reid said, turning around and running a hand through his hair, wincing as it got caught in a knot. "He's here with me… uh-huh… no, her too actually. Yes, I'll tell them. We'll be in in about an hour." He hung up and grimaced. "That was Dobson, he wants all of us at the office as soon as possible."

"Why?" Garcia asked, understandably suspicious.

"Well, he wants my report, he wants Morgan's statement and you have a meeting with the legal department."

"The legal department?" Garcia looked surprised. "Why?"

"They probably want to make sure that you're not planning on suing them for wrongful imprisonment," Morgan said.

"Oh. Oh! I hadn't even thought about that," Garcia said with wide eyes. "Should I?"

"No one would blame you if you did," Morgan said. "I guess we'd better go get it over it."

"I'll go get dressed," Garcia said.

"We're going to have to stop for breakfast on the way," Reid called after her. "Or rather lunch," he amended once he'd looked at his watch.

"Oh, hamburgers," Garcia suggested, popping her head out of the bedroom.

"Oh, separate cars," Morgan groaned.

* * *

The team slowly trickled in one by one during the day to write their statements, mostly to get them out of the way so they could start putting this horrible week behind them. Only JJ didn't show. She had, despite heavy protests, been kept at the hospital and was under strict orders to stay in bed for the next couple of days.

The statements were given to Dobson, who, despite it turning out to have nothing at all to do with terrorism, was still credited as the lead agent on the case. Especially since both Hotchner and Gideon were considered victims in this case.

The next day Dobson set up personal interviews with the whole team, as a complement to the statements and then they were sent to see an in-house therapist before they were finally dismissed. After that Hotchner decided to give everyone the rest of the week off. He himself felt a strong need to spend some quality time in bed, preferably with Haley and Jack snuggled up close.

* * *

A week later, the BAU team gathered in the round table room first thing in the morning so that Hotchner could tell them everything Dobson, who had spent the week sorting through the evidence found in the house, had told him.

He looked around at his team. He'd been in contact with them during their leave, but this was the first time he'd seen them. They all looked rested, though perhaps not as well rested as he would've liked to see. But still, it was a nice change from the hollow-eyed and pale agents he'd sent home last week. All minor injuries had healed, and even JJ had gotten some color back in her cheeks.

"Good morning everybody," Hotchner said, looking his usual clean self. "It's nice to see you all look so well. JJ, what did the doctors say?"

"I'm cleared for duty," she answered promptly. "They say I pretty much healed on my own while we were still held captive. I would've preferred to heal with the comfort of painkillers, but I guess you can't have everything." She smiled to show that while it was weak, it was an attempt at a joke.

"That's good," Hotchner said. "Now, we're here because Gideon and I had a rather long debriefing with Dobson yesterday and I wanted to share his findings with you."

"Where is Dobson?" Reid asked. He'd expected to see him for the briefing.

"He's gone back to anti-terrorism," Hotchner answered. "He said he wanted to put this behind him to start focus on real terrorist threats."

"Shall we start?" Gideon asked.

Hotchner nodded and opened the thick file lying in front of him on the table. "There was a lot of physical evidence against both Henry and the other three men in the house where we were being held. They had documented their plans extensively from day one. There were a lot of photos and written reports that showed that they have been following all of us for several months already. Their planning was quite ingenious actually, very elaborate. We know that Henry Caswell first met up with Garcia seven months ago, but this must have been at least a year's worth of planning."

Hotchner looked up, but as no one seemed very surprised he continued. "They had us numbered one through six, but only Morgan and Prentiss were locked as number one and two. Morgan was first because his apartment had the easiest access. We found a whole lot of plans concerning Elle that had been thrown out when she quit, so they had less surveillance on Prentiss than the rest of us, but once they noticed her midnight shopping habit, they decided that she would make an easy second target. After that they sent the first ransom note, which was written long in advance by Henry, who'd spent a couple of nights chatting up the leader of HBM to get a feel for his language. He also sent them an anonymous tip that the FBI would soon be paying them extra attention and that it would be a good idea to stay out of sight for a while, which is why Swartling had problems finding anyone to question. Oh, by the way, they had chosen the HBM as a scapegoat early on because of Donnie Nelson. They had researched all of us to find a good way in and when they figured out that Garcia had a cousin in prison on terrorist charges, they built their whole operation around that."

"Amazing," Garcia reflected. "_I_ didn't even know I had a cousin who was a terrorist or in prison. They must be really good investigators."

Hotchner continued. "Knowing that we would want to question Nelson and Marquez as soon as possible, they timed the ransom note to a point of time when they knew there would be little traffic along the road out to Lincoln. There are no prison transports or visitors allowed on Sundays, so the road would be mostly deserted. They figured that by now we should be spooked enough to travel in pairs, so they expected to bag two of us, only they didn't know which two. Then they, and rightly so, figured that the two of us who were left would be put under protection and be kept apart as much as possible. By dictating the time and place for the phony prisoner exchange, which they had no intention of ever going through with it, they could time one of Henry's visits to Garcia so that he would have a maximum chance of seeing the plans. They counted on that at least one of us would insist on being there. They had trained for several scenarios for that kidnapping and simply chose the one that matched my position the best.

"Setting Garcia up as a scapegoat was a two-part plan. The first was to have the investigators looking in the wrong direction and cement the suspicions against HBM. The second reason was that the discovery of Garcia's perceived betrayal was timed so that whoever was left, number six, would be alone and that he would go see her at the prison out of duty. They couldn't predict if number six would believe that Garcia was guilty or not, but they figured that either way he would go see her, either to yell at her or out of sympathy. They had researched which prisons it was most likely Garcia would be sent to and had devised scenarios and getaway plans for all of them. Then-"

"Then," Reid interrupted him, "All they had to do was wait for me to call them and tell them exactly where I was going and when."

"You called them?" Morgan asked, surprised.

Reid shrugged. "Garcia asked me to call Henry and tell him what had happened, so of course I did. I told him which prison Garcia had been sent to and when I was planning to visit. I served myself up on a silver platter."

"But you got away," Prentiss pointed out.

"Yeah... not really my doing though."

Hotchner continued. "They'd been on alert from the moment Landon Jones showed Dobson the pictures he found on Garcia's computer. Apparently the program had a spyware in it that alerted Caswell that the files had been opened. But then Reid evaded capture and all of their plans fell apart. They hadn't counted on that, they'd probably gotten cocky with four successful operations. But now they had to make new plans, which, fortunately, gave Reid enough time to figure things out and find us. They were just about to finalize their new plans on how to get Reid. It was a very good thing that you found us when you did…"

"Why?" JJ asked. "What had they planned?"

Hotchner turned to Reid. "The day after you found us, two of them were supposed to transport us to a location that's only mentioned as 'location B' in their notes, and the third one was  
scheduled for a morning flight to Las Vegas..."

Reid paled. "Mom?"

Hotchner nodded. "They figured that your mother's death would make you come running."

"It would have," Reid said, horrified. "How…?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Hotchner asked.

Reid nodded.

"They had found a prescription drug," Gideon said, "That when combined with you mother's regular medicine has been known to induce heart attacks."

"Oh, god." Reid felt nauseous. So close and he hadn't even suspected…

JJ put her hand on his arm. "Don't think about it. You found us in time. You stopped them."

Hotchner looked at Gideon who nodded and then turned to Reid. "About that… When Hotch and I had the final briefing with Dobson yesterday he told us you found us pretty much single handedly."

"Yeah?" Reid said guarded.

"Yes," Hotchner confirmed. "He admitted that they had been wrong not to listen to you more."

"Dobson said that?" Morgan said surprised. "You must've really made an impression on him," he said, turning to Reid. "I've never known him not to take anything less than full credit on anything he's ever been even remotely involved in."

"It wasn't really their fault," Reid protested. "Sure, their stubbornness was frustrating, but in truth, I just had a different perspective, that's all. It was a cleverly designed ruse; they just followed the path staked out for them. The thing that went wrong for them, the kidnappers I mean, was that they didn't get me. If they had, then we would have all disappeared and Dobson's trail would've gone cold sooner or later. But since they didn't get me and because I refused to believe Garcia had anything to do with it, then I was deliberately looking for other solutions. If they hadn't framed Garcia, I probably wouldn't have found you either."

"But you were skeptical before that too," Garcia reminded him. "Remember, you said that it didn't feel like a terrorist act."

"I wasn't the only one who thought so," Reid pointed out. "Swartling also said it was uncharacteristic behavior for HBM."

"Yes," Gideon said. "But you were the only one who acted on it. Where they only saw illogical behavior, you saw an illogical situation and you thought outside the box."

"All in all," Hotchner said, "We have evidence to put Henry and the three henchmen in jail for a long time, even if the three of them were masked at the abductions and it's impossible to tell who did what, like who shot Miller and Marcus and who was just the driver."

"What about Walker then?" Reid asked.

Hotchner grimaced his displeasure. "He's been interviewed and was very friendly the whole time, but predictably he claims to know nothing about any of this. He says he barely remembers us and doesn't understand why we would think that he would have any interest in kidnapping us. And of course, nothing ties either Henry or Walker to HBM and Walker claims he's never heard of them either. He also said that while Henry did work for him, he's not to be blamed for his crimes. If a disgruntle mailman runs amok you don't blame the Postmaster General."

Several heads were turned his way at the cliché and he held up a hand. "His words, not mine. Walker hasn't stepped foot in D.C. in at least nine months. His subsidiary company, the one Henry works for, is in the process of opening up a factory in Virginia that will produce cell phone components. That factory is said to need more than 600 employees, so the local government doesn't take our meddling too kindly. According to Walker, Henry was moved here to oversee the practical details. Walker claims he bought the house in preparation for the commuteonce the factory is up and running. As his trusted employee Henry was given the keys to the house to oversee renovation and decoration. The other three men Walker claims never to have heard of, and that they must have been hired by Henry without him knowing about it. Walker says that if Henry thought he was acting on his orders, then something must be very wrong with him. But there's not one single piece of hard evidence suggesting that he was involved. The three henchmen have never even heard his name."

"Really?" Morgan interrupted. "Didn't one of them say that the boss was eager to meet us? They must've at least known that there was someone higher up than Henry that they were working for."

"Doesn't mean Henry had told them who it was," Prentiss said. "Some people don't care where the paycheck comes from as long as it's big enough."

Hotchner nodded. "And while we should be grateful that Henry immediately confessed to having framed Garcia and pretty much everything else we've put in front of him, he isn't giving us anything that could even implicate Walker. All we have are Reid's theories."

"Theories?" Reid looked up. "But-"

"Relax," Morgan said. "We believe you, remember?"

"But he's going to walk?" Reid asked.

"He walks," Hotchner confirmed solemnly. "He knew what he was doing and he played it smart. We can't get to him. But at least he can't try it again, then he'd be our prime suspect from day one." He closed he file to show that he had no more information to give and that the floor was open for discussion.

"It's kind of interesting though, isn't it?" JJ said. "That they made plans for Elle but then scrapped them when she quit?"

"Elle wasn't with us on that case in Texas either," Morgan pointed out. "The one where we first met Walker. She hadn't started yet."

"Maybe she became unworthy when she quit," Hotchner theorized, thinking of Reid's profile of Walker. "That to be on the team and stay on the team you have to be the best."

"But if they made Garcia such a big part of the plan, then why didn't they consider her part of the team?" JJ wondered.

"Simple," Garcia said. "Because I'm not the best. I might be a computer goddess, but there are some seriously gifted geniuses out there."

"And Walker probably employs half of them," Morgan said.

"Yeah," Garcia agreed. "They did figure out about Donnie. Not to mention how they moved money around to and from HBM's account."

"You would've figured it out too," Morgan assured her, "If you'd been spearheading the investigation. Even if you didn't remember him you would've understood it if you'd done a deeper background check."

They fell silent for a moment, but then Prentiss spoke up. "I wonder what Walker had planned to do with us. I wonder what would've happened to us if he's succeeded, if he'd gotten all of us where he wanted us."

Others nodded in agreement. They had wondered too.

"That's not what I'm wondering," Gideon said, his eyes on his own hands. They all looked at him questioningly, silently. He raised his eyes and met theirs.

"I'm wondering if he's done it before."

* * *

The End

* * *

**A/N: **I hate to disappoint all of you who were hoping that Dobson was one of the bad guys. He may be obnoxious and unbearably irritating, but he's actually a good guy and he means well, in his own way.

I hope I've remembered to tie together all plot points. If I've missed anything, please let me know. And a huge thank you to everyone who has given this story some of their precious time. I'm grateful for each and every one of my readers. And thank you, thank you, thank you for all the wonderful reviews!


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